


Train Under Water

by mveloc



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 82,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mveloc/pseuds/mveloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delphine Cormier is a fairly average teenager with a fairly average life and a fairly average family until one day, a life-changing incident lands her in a therapist's chair every Tuesday afternoon. But it isn't the chair or its owner that has her slowly opening up, it's the girl who always comes prancing out every Tuesday before her. It's the girl that, for all her cocky smiles and clever words and openness to life, is harbouring secrets that the blonde can't even begin to imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whirlwind

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Hello again! So, this is the latest piece I've been working on and since Shadows on the Wall is nearing its completion (I'm in the process of writing/editing the last handful of chapters now), I figured that now was as good a time as any to post it. The title is a reference to the Bright Eyes song of the same name, definitely check it/the album out if you haven't already heard it, it was definitely one of those albums that got me through my adolescence. This fic will focus on a teenage Delphine and Cosima and a strong **trigger warning** does apply: mental illness and discussion of suicide are prominent features in this piece. I don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so if reading about these two things isn't your cup of tea or too personal of an issue for you, you may not want to jump into this one. I suppose I should also clarify that I am in no way trying to speak for/represent an entire group of people, ie. those who suffer from mental illness. I'm trying my best to create something that feels honest and as someone who has suffered with my own crippling mental health issues since my teenage years, I can only write from a place that's rooted in my own experiences. In short, if you also suffer from any sort of mental disorder and find that it's nothing like what's depicted in this story, just keep in mind that it's based on my individual and subjective experience with mental illness. Likewise, if you've never suffered from any sort of mental illness, I don't want you to think that this story is accurate in depicting what everybody's struggle is like. I hope you will keep this in mind through the course of this journey. Now that all of that's been said, I hope you'll all be able to enjoy this piece for what it is. Comments and criticisms are definitely much appreciated, as always. I take them all to heart and try to improve on my writing abilities through feedback.

The glass of the window is cool against her forehead as she watches tiny drops of precipitation descend down the transparent plane. Her mother’s muted words buzz gently in the background like the familiar static of an empty television channel; she’s aware of them on a sensory level, but they fail to truly permeate. She’s more in tune with the buildings that go whizzing by, the splash of water that’s kicked up when they drive through a puddle or the slight bump she feels when they cross an uneven patch of road. 

She never used to be so disjointed from her surroundings. She could carry on a conversation while reading a book, finish her homework while Skyping with her friends back home, even make herself dinner on one of her nights sans parents while Jeopardy played on the small kitchen television and she competed alongside the contestants.

But now? 

The incessant garble of the radio in conjunction with her mother’s words and the steady pitter-patter of rain on the windshield had forced her to lean forward and turn the damn thing off before her head exploded. Her mother had just looked at her with a narrowing of the eyes and dismissed it, but every so often, as she continued to speak and drive and the young girl continued to stare out the window in silence, her eyes would drift over to the right to find her daughter again and the smallest frown would creep upon her face.

“Delphine?” her mother asks, her voice slightly raised. “Are you listening to me?”

Her mother’s voice roots her back in reality and she turns her head to acknowledge the older woman with a brief nod.

_“Oui, Maman.”_

Her mother expels a deep sigh and her grip on the steering wheel tightens. Delphine pretends not to notice, turning her attention back out the window with a glazed-over look in her eyes. She doesn’t need to look at her mother or even engage with her to see the concern that’s bubbling underneath, sheathed in impatience.

“I want you to--”

Her mother stops mid-speech, trying to carefully choose her next words. It’s as if she’s walking through a minefield and in a way, she is. This is how people behave around her now; every word, every action, is selected and carried out with surgical precision, mindful not to strike any vital organs. She would find it exhausting, except she’s too exhausted with herself to let an outsider distract her.

“Can you please just give this a chance?” her mother finally settles on. “It will be good for you.”

_“D’accord.”_

Her response is as shallow as a wading pool and her mother is unconvinced.

“I know you don’t want to, but I think that--”

She stops herself, yet again.

“We’re all worried about you, Delphine. We all care about you so much. If you won’t do this for yourself, then at least do it for me. Do it for _Papa._ ”

She wants to scoff at her mother’s plea. A month ago, it would have garnered her a light smack in the back of the head and a scolding about respect, but she knows that it would go unchallenged now. Even still, she holds her tongue. There’s no satisfaction in scoring on an empty net. Besides, she was never a rebellious teen to begin with. It would feel too dishonest, even as she sat there in all her dishonesty.

 _“Nous sommes ici,”_ her mother proclaims as they pull into the parking lot.

Delphine’s heart flutters.

Her mother parks the car and turns the ignition off. She unbuckles her seatbelt and is about to open the driver’s side door to exit, but she stops when she notices that her daughter hasn’t so much as moved a muscle.

“Delphine,” she goads.

Delphine frowns, then unbuckles her seatbelt.

“You don’t have to come with me,” she says.

“I’m your mother. I should be there.”

“You can’t sit in on the appointment, anyway. There’s no point in you coming inside just to sign me in. I can do that myself,” she says with a hint of defiance.

If she has any hope of doing this, she can’t have her mother standing right there, holding her hand. For all of her hesitation and hardheadedness surrounding the situation, she knows that her parents are right. She needs to do this. She needs to do this alone.

“Delphine...”

“Don’t you trust me, _Maman?”_

She makes her voice sound smaller and softer, like it was when she was a child. She knows that it’s a low blow, a crafty tactic on her behalf, but she also knows that it’s effective. Her mother takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, composing herself.

 _“D’accord._ I’ll be here waiting for you at six o’clock.”

Delphine tries to offer her the most genuine smile that she can muster. Satisfied, she leans forward and kisses her mother on the cheek. She sees the tremble in the woman’s lower lip and she quickly opens the passenger’s side door and scrambles out before they have a chance to exchange any more words.

The rain has let up considerably since they left the house. Even still, it does nothing for her unruly curls which have become nothing short of a puffy pile of frizz at this point. She retrieves a hair elastic from her pocket and ties it back, trying her best to contain the beast. She slowly makes her way to the main entrance of the building and stops before the large glass doors. She reaches for the brass handle with a trembling hand, but before she can open it, the door swings open and almost knocks her on her feet. She quickly takes a step back to clear the way for another woman, a girl in her late twenties with a cup of Starbucks in one hand, phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder as she speaks into it loudly.

“Sorry. Didn’t see you there, babe,” she says dismissively before stalking away.

Delphine frowns at the woman’s rudeness. Things are already off to a rocky start and if she wasn’t discouraged before, she certainly is now. Shaking the encounter out of her mind, she pulls open the door for herself and steps through it. She’s standing in a rather large lobby, surrounded by elevators and a concierge desk in front of her. She takes a quick look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Can I help you with anything, miss?” the man at the desk asks.

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so she closes it again and reminds herself to breathe. After a few deep breaths, she offers him a weak smile and nods. She finds the building directory located on one of the walls and she walks over to it, eyes scanning.

“Twelfth floor,” she mumbles to herself.

She then walks over to an elevator, pressing the button and waiting for the doors to open. When she finally gets inside of the compartment, she releases a sigh of relief at having the small space to herself. That is, until a man comes running in her direction, yelling for her to hold the doors. She panics, unsure of how to react, but he manages to close the distance in time, sticking his arm between the closing doors and forcing them to open again. He slots himself inside next to her and pushes the button for the tenth floor. A woman and her young child also rush the doors, making it inside in time before they close and pushing the button for another floor. Trapped in the elevator with three strangers, Delphine feels her chest begin to constrict and she slams her eyes shut, trying to will the sinking feeling away. The child is rambling on and on, jumping up and down and tugging on his mother’s arm as she tries to get him to behave. The man turns to her with a smile on her face.

“What a nasty day outside, huh?” he asks, trying to make conversation.

She’s painfully aware of the minimal space between herself and these other bodies, of the different voices and personalities all clashing and begging for her validation at the very same time. She suddenly wishes that her mother had come with her because now the man is giving her a strange look and the child is yelling louder and the woman is kneeling down, scolding him. They’re all in her space and there’s no escape, no way to avoid them and she feels her head beginning to go fuzzy. That’s when the door stops and the woman drags her child out of the elevator, leaving just her and the man alone.

“Are you... okay?” he asks her.

“I... I...”

She isn’t sure how to respond, or if she can even respond at all. Thankfully, the man arrives at his stop before things have a chance to escalate. He gives her one last, lingering look of confusion before exiting. The doors close again and finally, she has solitude.

 _“Merde,”_ she curses under her breath.

She wants to cry.

She wants to bury herself in a hole and cry.

The doors chime open and the world is suddenly available to her again... momentarily. She quickly makes her way out of the elevator and she’s standing in a tastefully minimalistic waiting room, with a row of black leather chairs lined against one wall, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of magazines on top. Even the obligatory waiting room ficus seems to be meticulously and strategically placed and the entire set up of the room makes her stomach churn. She saunters over to the desk on the far side of the room, where the receptionist is typing away at her computer. When she notices Delphine standing in front of her, she looks up.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” she asks. 

“I... I have an appointment?” she replies, uncertain in her words.

The woman smiles. 

She’s a little older, most likely falling somewhere in her forties. Her sandy blonde hair is piled atop her head in a messy braid and starting to noticeably grey in certain areas. Her face is round, crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, but her smile is warm and her demeanor is reassuring. Delphine returns it with one of her own, feeling better already.

“Are you Delphine?” the woman asks, glancing over to her computer monitor.

“Yes,” Delphine nods.

“Okay. Great,” the woman replies. “Doctor Leekie’s just seeing another patient right now, but he should be finishing up very shortly. If you’d have a seat, he’ll come and get you when he’s ready.”

“O-Okay. Thank you.”

She meanders over to the row of chairs, dropping down in one. Despite its expensive appearance, the chair is painfully uncomfortable and she squirms around, trying her best to find an acceptable position. There’s one other person in the waiting room, a man who looks to be a few years older than herself, but his presence is nonthreatening and unassuming as he sits quietly in the corner with his head down and hands tucked into his pockets. She glances around the room, focusing on the ticking clock mounted on the wall, the wallpaper, an overly-airbrushed picture of Katy Perry on the cover of some magazine and, of course, that damn ficus. The room is quiet, aside from the steady click-clack of the receptionist’s typing and the ticking of the clock. That is, until a door bursts open and the room suddenly becomes a lot smaller.

“Yeah, I got it!” the intruder shouts back into the room that she’s leaving. “I’ll be sure to tell the parentals!”

She closes the door behind her and nearly skips over to the desk with a grin on her face. Delphine’s eyes follow her the entire time, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be about her own age, with brown hair and a pair of glasses settled on her face, but a bit shorter and definitely quite a bit more boisterous. She’s wearing a colorful cardigan with a bunch of dangly bracelets on her wrists that rattle as she moves them.

And _does_ she move them.

Every word that leaves her mouth is emphasized by a flick of the wrist, a twisting of the fingers. Delphine has never seen someone talk so eagerly with their hands before, and despite typically finding such stimulation overwhelming in her current state, there’s something mesmerizing about this girl’s presence. A nervousness settles in, but it’s different than her regular anxiety. She doesn’t feel threatened or overwhelmed by her presence, merely... curious.

“Will I be seeing you again next week?” the receptionist asks her.

“Same time, same place, as always. You know I can’t resist coming to see you, Denise.”

The receptionist -- Denise -- laughs. The girl flashes her a grin. The two say their fond goodbyes and the girl finally starts walking over in her direction. Delphine freezes up as she approaches, then catches her own behaviour and tries to appear more natural, more comfortable. She squirms a couple of times in her seat.

“Yeah. They kind of suck, huh?”

She looks up.

The girl is speaking. 

To her.

“The chairs,” she clarifies with a chuckle. “Rich people will blow money on anything to make sure other people know that they’re rich. Doesn’t really mean it’s a good investment, right? I’d rather sit in one of those plastic kiddy chairs at the dentist’s office.”

Delphine blinks, trying to process the words that are flying out of the girl’s mouth at a rapid pace. She wants to say something, though she isn’t sure what. So instead, she continues to stare. Instead of being insulted or confused like most other people are, the girl just offers her another smile, then points.

“That one.”

_“P-Pardon?”_

“That chair,” she says.

Delphine follows her finger to the chair three down from her own.

“It’s the best one here. Trust me.”

Delphine stares back at her. Before she has a chance to respond, the girl goes dashing over to the elevators, grabbing an iPod out of her purse and slipping the headphones on over her ears. She watches as the brunette dips inside the elevator, loud and pulsating music blaring from her headphones, and then the doors shut and she disappears.

Like a whirlwind, blowing through the area erratically and leaving no head unturned. Even after the elevator doors close, Delphine can’t stop staring at them, as if she expects them to open again and the girl to manifest. 

“Delphine Cormier?”

Her head darts in the direction of her name. She sees an older man standing in the doorway that the strange girl had come bursting out of only minutes before. He’s smiling, but it isn’t as reassuring as Denise’s or as mystifying as the young chair guru’s.

“I’m Doctor Leekie,” he introduces himself. “If you’re ready, why don’t you come into my office?”

She nods, swallowing hard as she forces herself to her feet again and starts moving forward towards his office. She stops herself in the doorway, taking one last look back towards the elevators, waiting for something. 

Denise is still typing and the clock is still ticking.

But the wind is still.


	2. Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the warm reception. Here's the next one :)

Her journey to her appointment is less strenuous this time. Her mother seems to be in better spirits, happy that she’s going and taking this seriously. The woman still has this incessant need to fill any sort of potential quiet with sound, uncomfortable in the silence that Delphine has created for herself and retreated into. As she rambles on about everything and nothing, Delphine even manages to muster a few responses and her mother’s eyes light up. Even the elevator ride had gone far more smoothly; she was granted the solitude she was denied the week prior and rode to her destination in quiet, satisfying contemplation. Denise had been waiting for her at the desk, yet again, smile just as genuine as it had been before and she had taken a seat, waiting for Doctor Leekie to become available.

She smiles down at her feet as she shifts in her chair.

 _The_ chair.

The one the girl from last week had told her was more comfortable than the others. She was right, too. The seat was more tolerable, though only marginally. Even still, Delphine’s back and bottom are grateful for the girl’s advice.

She found herself thinking about that girl quite often over the course of the week. There wasn’t a lot for her to do holed up in her room like a recluse. She was never big on film or television as she preferred books and conversation and even though her parents took turns staying home with her, conversation with them was out of the question. 

Her father was like a monument to the fallen that she’d seen back home in France; stone-cut and austere, but for all of his aesthetic appeal to any casual onlooker, to her he always seemed uncomfortable in his own skin. He was incapable of carrying out even the lightest of conversations and it wasn’t that he disliked people, rather he projected his own insecurities onto them and in turn, made himself feel even more out of place. She thinks that maybe she possesses some of this, as well, but for all of her awkwardness, she still enjoys company and conversation, or at least she did before she found herself in this mess. Her father would come to check on her every couple of hours but aside from that, he never attempted to force a conversation and she was grateful for that. 

Her mother was the complete opposite; she was definitely a people person, always chattering on and trying to please everybody in the room. When it was her turn to watch Delphine, it took everything the blonde had not to lose her patience with the woman who would come to check on her every twenty minutes, trying to make conversation about something as mundane as how she was going to try a new recipe for dinner. She had always been close with her mother but in her newfound situation, she finds herself unable to engage with or even excuse the frivolity. 

This left her alone with her books more often than not. She had managed to stay up-to-date on her readings for school, as well as tackle some of her own. This still left her with plenty of free time, however, and in those moments, her mind always wandered back to the girl. Back to her noisy hands and dancing mouth (or was it the other way around?), to the way she so easily flowed through a room without having to take a deep breath or close her eyes and picture herself somewhere else. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d need Doctor Leekie’s expertise, but then she never would have imagined herself in this situation, either.

The door to Doctor Leekie’s office bursts open and, just like before, in a fury of smiles and loudness and laughter, the girl goes waltzing over to speak with Denise and confirm her next appointment. Delphine immediately straightens up in her seat and pretends to be unaffected by her presence, but she’s always been a poor liar and she would definitely be lying if she didn’t admit that she had spent the week harboring a cautious optimism that she’d get a chance to see her again. Once the girl has concluded her business with Denise, she finds her iPod in her bag and slips her headphones on. She heads for the elevators and Delphine wonders if she should speak up and say something to get her attention, to make her presence known, but when the brunette blows right by her, she slumps down in her chair and tries to hide her frown, head drooping towards the ground.

“He-ey!”

She immediately looks up and the girl is standing in front of her, pulling her headphones down until they hang loosely around her neck. Delphine sits up straighter and meets her acquaintance’s smile with a small one of her own.

“I missed you there for a second,” she exclaims. “I see you took my advice about the chair, though. Good call.”

Delphine nods, her smile still outstretched.

“Well, glad I could help.”

She can tell that the girl is ready leave again and she’s been looking forward to seeing her all week, she doesn’t want to squander the chance that she’s been given at learning something more about her. It shouldn’t be so hard to think of a conversation starter, but her mind goes blank and her palms go sweaty as her opportunity passes her by. The brunette turns to leave again and as she takes her first step in the direction of the elevators, Delphine finds her voice.

“You...”

The girl stops, turning around and staring expectantly at Delphine, giving the blonde her full attention

“Y-You’re seeing Doctor Leekie, as well?”

It’s all she can think to say. Hell, it’s the only thing she really knows about this girl, the only thing they have in common. Her mother had always told her that the easiest way to talk to someone new was to figure out what you have in common with them and start from there. Her advice was somewhat helpful when she had first moved to this country and she thinks that maybe it will help now, too.

“Yep. Every Tuesday at four.”

“Oh. I come Tuesdays at five,” Delphine replies.

“That’s cool,” her spectacled new friend proclaims with a nod. “Well, not really. Nobody actually _wants_ to come to this place, but what can we do? Thems are the breaks, huh?”

She talks strangely and even though Delphine has been speaking English fluently for the last four years since she moved across the Atlantic, she doesn’t recognize the girl’s apparent slang.

“I-I suppose,” she stammers, not wanting to appear ignorant or foolish.

The girl smiles.

“I guess I’ll see you next week, then.”

Delphine smiles back.

_“Oui.”_

It’s a good encounter, she thinks. The girl finally makes her exit and Delphine sits tall with a confidence she hasn’t felt in a very long time. It might seem stupid to be so thrilled about such a lackluster conversation, but she’s able to recognize just how pivotal it is. As she sits in her smugness, Leekie’s door opens again and he’s there, calling out for her to join him. She takes a seat in the chair across from him (this one far more comfortable than the ones inhabiting the waiting room) and waits for him to speak.

“How has your week been?” he asks her.

“Fine,” she says with a few nods for emphasis. “It’s been fine.”

He continues to watch her, waiting for her to elaborate on her fine week.

“I’ve been... keeping busy,” she explains.

“Is that right?”

“Yes. I’ve been reading a lot.”

“That’s good,” he says with a smile and a nod. “What have you been reading?”

“Mostly books for school. I don’t want to fall too far behind.”

He laughs.

“That’s understandable.”

She smiles, fidgeting with her hands. She thinks about that girl’s hands, how they seem to move almost independent of her body. Staring down at her own, she suddenly realizes that she didn’t even bother getting her name and her previous confidence is replaced by a sinking feeling in her chest. How could she have been so stupid? Exchanging names was the first thing she should have done but she had sat there, asking her about her appointment schedule when she should have been asking for her name.

“I don’t want you to worry about school though, Delphine. You need to focus on yourself, on getting better.”

Doctor Leekie’s words pull her attention back to the conversation at hand and she tries to refocus. He needs to see that she’s making progress and if she’s sitting there, as mentally absent and uncooperative as she’d been last week, there’s no way she’ll ever convince him to help her get her life back.

“Well, I would feel better if I knew I wasn’t jeopardizing my academic future.”

“You’re not jeopardizing anything, Delphine,” he says softly. “School will be there when you’re ready to return. So will college. Don’t be in a rush to get there before you’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath.

“I... I think I’m ready.”

He watches her knowingly.

“Do you?”

She leans forward in her seat, uncrossing her legs and furrowing her brow.

“I want to go back,” she tells him. “I just want to be back in a classroom with my friends.”

It’s not even her friends that she’s desperate to see. She’s grown tired of her house and her parents and she thinks that if she’s going to get better, she just needs to go back to what she knows. School was always safe, familiar. Even if she doesn’t feel like interacting with people right now, if she throws herself back into it, it’ll eventually come back to her... won’t it?

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks her.

She mulls the question in silence for a minute or so.

“I think that... I think I need things to be normal again,” she concludes. “I want things to feel like they did before. Maybe then I can move on.”

“But things weren’t working for you, the way they were before. That’s why you’re here,” he challenges her.

“I know that, but--”

“I know that you’re eager to get back into your routine, that you’d much rather forget about what’s happened, but you can’t and you shouldn’t.”

She deflates.

“I’m just... I’m tired of it,” she confesses.

“Tired of what?”

“Of my parents tiptoeing around me. Of ignoring my friends and their questions and all of my stupid excuses. It isn’t making things any easier,” she explains, her voice shaking. 

“Your parents are scared, Delphine. They don’t want to do anything to upset you in case you might--”

“Try to kill myself again?”

She’s surprised by her own bluntness, but she’s fishing for a reaction and she gets her desired one when he immediately freezes. For a second she feels like she she’s won, only then she remembers that they’re not playing a game and the reality of her statement starts to sink in.

“Is that what happened?” he asks her calmly.

She stares down at her feet, her hands balling into tight, white fists on her knees and she forbids herself from crying. There’s been far too much of it, she thinks she doesn’t have the space for it in her life anymore. She’d abandoned her tears like a winter jacket come spring and she’s been better off for it.

“You told the doctor at the hospital that it was an accident.”

Her eyes glimmer, but never does a tear fall.

“It wasn’t an accident,” she whispers.

He jots something down in his notepad and she ignores it. He’s probably just writing that she’s crazy, that she’s emotionally unstable and a part of her wants to scream at him, to insist that he’s wrong and that it’s all a misunderstanding, but then maybe it isn’t.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No.”

He smiles.

“Okay.”

They stew in silence for several minutes as he waits for her to come out of her shell and engage him again. She’s feeling a bout of defiance until she realizes that the longer she tries to maintain an antagonistic relationship, the longer she’ll have to keep coming to these appointments.

“I know that you all think I’m a danger to myself, but I’m not,” she insists.

“You just admitted that you tried to hurt yourself.”

“I _did!_ But that was _then!_ I’m not going to try it again!” she finally bursts. 

“How do you know?”

She pauses.

“Because I...”

She doesn’t have an answer.

“If you were willing to try it once, why wouldn’t you be willing to try it again? Especially if you don’t even understand why you did it in the first place?” he asks her. “If you don’t know what triggered such a response, how can you ever hope to recognize when it happens again and stop yourself before you do something foolish?”

She slams her fists into her knees.

“That’s not it!” she protests.

“There’s no need to be upset.”

“No, I _am_ upset! You keep saying these things, keep attacking me--”

“I’m not attacking you, Delphine. Nobody is.”

For whatever reason, his words resonate with her. 

“I’m just trying to voice my concerns and explain my reasoning to you. Is that how you feel? That everybody is attacking you?”

She thinks about her mother, always intruding and questioning. Since her incident, she always saw it as an attack on her agency but maybe it isn’t that at all. She thinks about the man in the elevator last week who had tried to make conversation about the weather and how she’d seen his friendliness as imposing. She thinks about the nurse back at the hospital who had sat in her room with her, watching her and trying to keep her company, trying to make her feel less scared, but all she’d seen was a woman trying to invade her space. Thinking about it rationally, she knows that all of these incidences can’t be connected, that all of those people couldn’t be trying to victimize her.

“No. I-I’m... I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he tells her. “I understand that you’re under a lot of stress, that you’re not exactly at one hundred percent right now and that’s fine. It’s why I’m here. I’m just trying to make sure you understand that, as well. Until you do, I can’t recommend that you return to school.”

She’s frustrated and shrinking but she can’t really argue with the man because even though she doesn’t want to admit it, she knows he’s right.

“I... understand.”

She had been doing so well today, too. After seeing the brunette, she was convinced that this was going to be a good session but here she is, making a fool out of herself. She’s willing to bet that that girl didn’t make a fool out of herself in front of Doctor Leekie.

No.

She seems far too sure of herself, far too at home in her body. She probably has a witty answer for every one of Doctor Leekie’s questions and she probably delivers each and every one of them with a grin. She probably never gets flustered or allows herself to stumble over her words.

“I’m not like her,” Delphine mumbles, defeated.

“Her?”

When she realizes that she’s spoken out loud, she panics. He already thinks she’s crazy, she doesn’t want him to think that she’s hallucinating, too.

“The girl that was in here before me,” she clarifies. “I was just thinking about her.”

“Oh, Cosima? Yes, she’s a lively one,” he answers with a chuckle.

Cosima.

The name somehow suits her.

“Is she a friend of yours?” he asks.

“Umm... no. Not really. I spoke to her a couple of times. Well, only once, actually. The first time she spoke to me I kind of just... stared.”

He laughs again.

“Yes, she can be a lot to take in at once.”

Delphine smiles.

“I was just thinking about how different we are, how I’m not like her at all. She seems... nice. Put together, I suppose. She seems happy.”

“You wish you could be like that?” he presses.

She sighs deeply.

“Well, I don’t think her parents worry about leaving her alone.”

“No, but Cosima’s parents worry about other things. So does Cosima.”

His words sit with Delphine for a moment. Somehow, she can’t imagine that girl ever having a worry in the world, with her flashy smile and funny words. But then, if Cosima didn’t have any troubles or worries of her own, then why was she seeing Doctor Leekie every week? 

“We all have our anxieties, Delphine. You’re not unique in that,” he says, as if reading her mind. “Some people are just better at coping with them than others. I’m here to help you do that.”

Cope.

She thinks it’s a strange word. People don’t cope with getting through the day, with ridiculously trivial situations like sharing an elevator with a stranger. People cope with things that are _real,_ things that change them forever and leave them unable to see the same person in the mirror anymore. People cope with loss and grief and death.

What does she really have to “cope” with?


	3. Tricky Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** Again, thank you all so much for the fantastic response. Your comments totally brighten my day and inspire me to write more :)

“Look at _you._ Fancy, fancy.”

Delphine smiles, trying to hide the light blush that floods her cheeks and neck as the brunette compliments her, whistling in appreciation. Cosima is right, she’s way too overdressed for an appointment with Doctor Leekie, but for whatever reason, she woke up this morning and had a burning desire to doll herself up a little bit. She’d worn nothing but pajamas for the last month, or a pair of jeans and a t-shirt when she’d leave the house to come to her appointment. Her mother had been ecstatic to see her putting some sort of effort back into her appearance.

“See? You’re such a beautiful girl,” she had gushed. “You shouldn’t be wallowing around all day in those rags. The first step to feeling better is looking better.”

She had an issue with her mother’s logic, but decided not to argue as she sized herself up in the mirror. The skirt and blouse combination was by no means formal, but a bit dressier when compared to the wardrobes of her peers. A gold necklace had completed the simple yet elegant look and her minimal application of makeup had transformed her face, making it seem much more bright and lively... or perhaps it was just her elevated mood.

_“Oui,”_ Delphine confesses, unable to contain the smallest laugh at the girl’s enthusiasm. “I suppose.”

“You’re French, huh?”

_“Oui.”_

Cosima smiles.

_“Oui,”_ she repeats, trying the word for herself. _“Où est la bibliothèque?”_

Delphine’s giggling becomes a bit more pronounced.

“You’re looking for the library?” she asks with skeptical amusement.

“I took French for, like, three weeks Freshman year. I ended up dropping it for Spanish instead. I kinda wish I hadn’t now, though,” she explains. _“Où est la bibliothèque_ is, like, the only phrase I can actually remember. That and _puis-je aller aux toilettes,_ but asking to use the bathroom doesn’t sound as smooth, in my humblest of opinions.”

_“C’est vrai.”_

Cosima places her hands on her hips and stares down at the tickled blonde, her eyes swimming with curiosity.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she brags, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now I know a whopping three French phrases. So, thanks for the lesson.”

_“Bien sur.”_

Cosima folds her arms over her chest in mock disapproval, trying her best to appear unimpressed by the French girl’s wittiness which is rivaling her own today. It’s been a long time since anyone has challenged her like this.

“Okay. Now you’re just being a show off.”

Delphine offers her another smile, the corners of her lips twitching as she tries to contain her laughter.

_“C’est vrai.”_

Cosima bursts into laughter and the two other patients in the waiting room stare over at them, one of them clearly annoyed by their loudness and the other one unnerved by it. Denise looks over the counter at them, but instead of telling them to quiet down, she just smiles and shakes her head. Delphine is startled at first by the thunder that erupts from the tiny girl’s chest, sinking back into her chair.

_“You,_ Miss... Miss...”

She realizes that Cosima’s fishing for a name (since they’ve yet to officially introduce themselves), so she bites.

“Delphine Cormier.”

“Really?” Cosima asks, skeptically raising her eyebrows.

It’s as if she’s uncertain if Delphine is messing with her, giving her an impossibly French name just to push the ongoing joke along even further, but as Cosima searches the blonde’s face, she realizes that Delphine is being as honest as a gun to the head.

“Well, _you_ \-- Miss Delphine Cormier -- are a real... _abeja mañoso.”_

Delphine raises her own brows.

“A tricky bee?” 

Cosima stomps her foot, startling the blonde again.

“Damn it! I was hoping you didn’t know Spanish.”

She slumps down in the chair adjacent to Delphine, pretending to sulk. Delphine eyes her carefully, uncertain if Cosima’s annoyance is genuine or fabricated. She worries that she may have struck the wrong cord with her new friend and she feels the panic in her chest begin to start. But then she sees Cosima’s smile return to her and the brunette nudges her gently on the shoulder, reaffirming the light and playful nature of their conversation. Delphine relaxes, releasing a deep and very audible breath that she’d been ignorant of.

“Geez. You don’t get out much, do you?” Cosima teases.

“Not... lately,” Delphine admits.

“So, you’re a shut in, eh? That’s your vice?”

Delphine’s smile returns to her.

“I suppose there are worse things to... _bee.”_

They both laugh this time, but their playtime is cut short when Doctor Leekie’s door opens and he’s standing in the doorway.

“Ah. I thought I heard something going on out here,” he jests. “Hello again, Cosima.”

Cosima waves from her seat and Delphine stands, bidding the brunette a farewell. She’s disappointed that she has to leave her eccentric new friend so soon, but at least she’s feeling better than she has in a very long time. She thinks she’ll have a productive session today, which means she’ll be one step closer to having things back to the way they were. 

 

\+ + + + + + + + + +

 

When she steps into the elevator again, she feels lighter than she has in months. Her appointment with Leekie had been far less antagonistic than her past two. He’d even told her that if she continued to progress this way, she may be able to return to school in a few more weeks. Of course, she would like to return to her place of study much sooner, but “a few weeks” sounds much better than “an indefinite hiatus,” so she accepts his terms and moves on.

As she descends from the twelfth floor to the lobby, the elevator stops at the seventh floor to accommodate an elderly woman. She shifts even further back into the depths of the lift, nestling herself in the corner. The woman smiles at her, hobbling into the elevator with her cane. Delphine musters a weak smile of her own and while she realizes that she’s already doing much better than she has in the past, she still has no desire to engage with the woman and the threat is very real for her, lurking in her chest. She closes her eyes and gives silent thanks that the other rider doesn’t bother striking up a conversation. When the doors chime open in the lobby, she waits for the woman to exit first and then follows. Once she’s standing in the lobby, she takes a deep breath and smiles.

That wasn’t so bad.

“Hey! Tricky bee!” 

The booming voice startles her and her heart rate accelerates as her eyes nervously scan her surroundings. She finally discovers the perpetrator approaching her, a broad smile dominating her features.

“Cosima?” 

“That’s right,” she confirms. “I realized that I didn’t actually give you my name. Sorry about that.”

“I-It’s fine.”

They stand before each other, Delphine awkwardly shifting from one foot to another. It’s strange. When she was forced to part from Cosima before, she had been disappointed, but now that she’s been given another opportunity to speak with her, she finds herself at a loss. Cosima senses this, stretching her hands high above her head and yawning.

“So, what’s on the agenda?” she asks through the tail-end of the yawn.

“The agenda?” Delphine counters, confused.

“What are you up to?” Cosima clarifies.

“Oh. Um, I’m supposed to go home now.”

“Really?”

_“Oui.”_

In fact, she knows that her mother is most likely waiting in the parking lot for her, as per their agreement. She would drop Delphine off at 4:30 and then spend the next hour and a half running errands. She isn’t wearing a watch and her parents are still withholding her cellphone so she has no way to tell the time, but she knows that it was just after six when she stepped into the elevator.

“I was gonna see if you wanted to, like, I dunno. Do something.”

“Do something?” 

She can’t remember the last time she did something with someone else. She knows that if she even bothers to ask either of her parents if she can go out with a friend, they’ll shoot her down faster than the question can leave her mouth.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have anywhere to be,” Cosima says.

Delphine nibbles on her bottom lip. She wants so badly to say yes, to go somewhere with Cosima that isn’t her home or a waiting room, where she doesn’t feel like jumping out of her skin. She hasn’t had a real conversation in weeks outside of Doctor Leekie, but she hardly considers those to be real conversations considering the circumstances upon which they take place.

“I... I would like to, but I’m not allowed to go anywhere unsupervised.”

“Wow. They really keep you on a tight leash, don’t they? Bummer.” 

Her body sinks, good mood instantly deflating and even though she promised herself that she wouldn’t cry anymore, she feels herself on the verge of tears. Cosima is staring at her with a puzzled expression and it’s too much for her to deal with so she simply walks away with a frown. When she pushes through the glass doors and steps out into the parking lot, she surveys the area but she doesn’t see her mother’s car.

“What’s wrong?”

Cosima is standing next to her now, inquiring into the source of her confusion and growing distress.

“I don’t see my mother’s car,” Delphine clarifies.

“Oh. Maybe she’s not here yet.”

“My mother’s always on time.”

“Maybe she forgot about you.”

“I’m the only thing she has to remember.”

“Maybe she got in an accident.”

_“Arrêt!”_

Her forcefulness surprises them both and even though Cosima only knows three French phrases, she doesn’t have to understand the language to know that Delphine doesn’t find her joking and dismissive attitude very funny. The blonde clamps her eyes shut and begins to take deep breaths in and out, in and out, trying to fight off the panic slowly ripping through her.

“Okay, okay,” Cosima coos. “Why don’t I drive you home?” 

Delphine stops panicking long enough to shoot the shorter girl a quizzical glance.

“You have a car?”

Somehow she can’t picture those wild hands fixed on a steering wheel or Cosima’s attention focused squarely on the road in front of her. She can already tell from their very brief encounters that the brunette is a terrible driver and she’s hesitant to get into a car with her. Not only that, but what if her mother comes to pick her up and she’s gone? Knowing that woman, she’d most likely call the police and an entirely unpleasant and completely avoidable situation would arise and then she’d _really_ never be able to leave the house again.

“Yep. It’s just over there,” Cosima replies.

She points to an obnoxiously red Jeep Wrangler that looks like it’s been driven through a war zone.

“I... I’m not so sure.”

Cosima meets her eyes with a steady gaze.

“Okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

Delphine nods, worrying her bottom lip between her front teeth. She clenches and unclenches her fists over and over, pacing back and forth as she tries to rationalize her mother’s absence. Her mother has never been late before in her life and this deviation from the routine is sending her into another anxious fit.

“Why don’t I wait with you until your mom gets here?” Cosima suggests.

Delphine stops pacing.

“You would do that?”

Cosima offers her a reassuring smile.

“Like I said, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Delphine decides to gladly accept the shorter girl’s offer. They seek refuge in her car as they wait, Delphine sliding comfortably into the passenger’s seat and Cosima into the driver’s. Cosima manages to keep her anxious mind occupied with a few simple questions, like where she goes to school and what her favourite color is. She doesn’t feel overwhelmed or pressured to answer for the first time in a long time and they both exchange questions and answers with lightness, learning basic information about each other much like children do on their very first day of school.

Cosima is also in her Junior year of high school, sixteen going on seventeen and like Delphine, the brunette is also an overachiever. She’s at the top of every class, although her best subjects are biology and chemistry. This revelation initially shocks the blonde. Cosima doesn’t seem to be the type of person who’d lock herself away and spend hours with her head in a book studying. No, Cosima strikes her as the type of person who has to constantly be out in the world, learning and experiencing things for herself. She supposes this is a different kind of intelligence, one that’s more intrinsic and probably doesn’t require as much nurturing or attentiveness as Delphine’s does. Cosima learns through touch, through dancing hands that are always talking, always reaching. Cosima learns through people, through what she can tell them and in turn, what can be told to her. She doesn’t need to spend hours cramming for an exam or desperately seeking out knowledge, she merely keeps herself open and allows the answers to come to her.

“What is it you’d like to do? Once you’re finished with school, I mean.”

For the first time since she’s met her, Cosima becomes completely silent. Delphine waits patiently, eyes shining with curiosity as she watches Cosima ponder her question. She hums a few times, giving the question far more thought than it warrants.

“I never really thought about it.”

Her response is unexpected.

“Really? Never? Not even once?” Delphine presses.

“Not lately, no,” Cosima confesses. “When I was a kid, I used to want to be a space cowboy.”

Delphine giggles.

“What’s a space cowboy?”

Cosima matches the French girl’s giggles with her own.

“I don’t even know, but I wanted to be one.”

She pictures a young Cosima, all starry-eyed for the stars in the sky. Even though neither of them really know what a space cowboy is, it seems to make sense.

“And now?” Delphine asks.

“Hmm... probably some sort of scientist. Something to do with genetics,” she settles on.

She’d said that she loved biology the most, that it was the science of understanding ourselves. For Cosima, biology is just another way for her to learn about people. Whether it’s through babble or base-pairs, she finds new insight into a person’s inner workings. 

“What about you?” she flips.

That question is an easy one.

“I want to be a doctor.”

Cosima lifts her hands, connecting the tips of her thumbs and index fingers, making a hovering box around Delphine’s face. She squints into it, as if she’s looking into some sort of invisible telescopic lens that grants her a vision of the future. 

“Yeah. I can see that,” she agrees with a smile. _“Doctor Cormier._ Has a nice ring to it.”

“Really?”

She doesn’t entirely believe the brunette’s faith.

“You seem like you’d be really good at helping people,” Cosima adds.

Delphine’s shoulders slump.

“I can’t even help myself,” she mutters under her breath.

“Well, that’s why we have doctors, isn’t it?”

She lifts her gaze to find Cosima smiling back at her with a dopey but endearing grin, her tongue poking out from behind her teeth.

“Everything’s always so simple with you, isn’t it?”

Cosima shrugs.

“When you have perspective, everything seems really simple.”

Delphine laughs.

“Yes, because you have so much perspective as a sixteen year-old,” she teases.

“Hey,” Cosima laughs, trying to defend herself. “I have more than you might think.”

She doesn’t doubt it.

Instead, she shifts the conversation into a different direction.

“Do your friends know?”

“Know what?”

“That you come here every week?”

Cosima pauses.

“Hmm. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think?”

“Well, I’ve never actually told them that I’m seeing a shrink and they’ve never flat out asked me,” she rectifies her answer.

“Would you tell them if they did?” Delphine inquires. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not, though.”

Delphine nods.

“I think... if my friends knew that I was coming here, if they knew that there was something wrong with me... they’d see me differently,” she says, finally getting to the root of her question.

“Yeah. I get that.”

“It’s not that I _like_ lying to them or anything. It’s just--”

“You wouldn’t want them to treat you differently, because then you’d actually _feel_ like you’re different and that would mean having to acknowledge your own shit and blah blah blah. Am I close?”

Alarmingly so.

_“Oui.”_

Out of the corner of her eye, Delphine spots her mother’s car pulling into the parking lot and she grins.

“That’s her! That’s _Maman!”_ she exclaims.

“See? Everything worked out, didn’t it?” 

She nods enthusiastically.

What could have turned into another breakdown instead turned into the most honest conversation that she can recall. Not only that, but there isn’t an ounce of anxiety left in her bones. She needs to remember to tell Doctor Leekie about this next week. She’ll have to write it down in her journal when she gets home.

“I guess it’s okay,” Cosima proclaims.

“What’s okay?”

Cosima smiles at her knowingly.

“None of our friends have to know that we’re both mentally anguished youths,” she elaborates. “I’ll be your dirty little secret and you can be mine.”

She opens the passenger side door, preparing to hop out and reunite with her mother, but before she does so, she turns to Cosima with a smile of her own, acknowledging and accepting the cocky girl’s bold offer.

“See you next Tuesday, Cosima.”


	4. Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone for reading and sharing all of your thoughts with me :) This chapter is a flashback, giving a little bit of backstory to Delphine's current situation. Enjoy!

When she opens her eyes, she finds herself boxed in by four very large, very unfamiliar, very bland white walls. She shoots up in the bed that she’s apparently been sleeping in, her eyes dancing around the room as she tries to take in her surroundings. There’s a silent television set playing a basketball game on the wall across from her, as well as a woman who is sitting off to the side, reading a book. As soon as the woman notices that she’s awake, she puts the book down and approaches.

“Good. You’re awake,” she drawls.

She tries to kick off the bedsheets which are strangling her lower extremities and with every kick, the horribly stiff bed rattles and rocks. When she looks down at her hands and arms, she immediately recognizes an IV line and she traces it back to the stand. The tightness in her chest begins to constrict even harder, the buzzing in her ears escalating to an unbearable screech.

_“Je suis ou?”_ she cries out.

“Calm down, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

The strange woman’s words do nothing to put her mind at ease. The last thing she remembers is returning home from school and now she suddenly finds herself in a hospital room with a nurse who can’t tell her how she got there. Well, maybe she could, if she would stop shouting and rambling in French. The woman darts over to the door, poking her head out and calling for someone. A moment later, her mother and father come racing into the room.

_“Oh, mon pauvre ange!”_

Her mother is crying, flying over to her and grabbing her face in her hands. She showers her cheeks and forehead in kisses that are meant to be soothing but instead only alarm her even more. She squirms in her mother’s grasp.

_“Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?”_

“You had an accident, Delphine!” he mother proclaims. _“Ma belle fille!”_

She looks passed her mother to see her father in the doorway, a frown upon his usually stoic face. He hasn’t said so much as a word, he simply watches his wife and daughter as the older woman sobs and the younger one tries to make sense of what’s happening.

“How are you feeling, Delphine?”

The voice belongs to someone else. It’s a man, a doctor. Her father steps aside to allow him to enter. His voice is smooth and his smile is easy, but even still, she finds herself uncomfortable. He stops at the foot of her bed and she finds herself unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you remember what happened?”

She shakes her head.

Her father enters the room more fully now, walking over to her mother. He gathers her in his arms and slowly backs her away from their daughter in an attempt to give the young blonde some space and the doctor more room to work. Her mother buries her face into his chest, but even muffled, her sobs still ring out in the girl’s ears.

“You’re father called an ambulance and you were brought here, to the hospital,” he begins to explain. “He found you in your room.”

She remembers returning home from school to an empty house, both of her parents at work, like they usually were. She remembers slipping her coat and boots off, grabbing her book bag and trudging up the stairs to her room, like she usually does.

Wait.

Her memory freezes, then backtracks. She had entered into her parent’s room first before going into her own. She pulls her knees up to her chest and holds them there, resting her chin atop them as her already pale face loses what little colour it had been able to maintain.

“Do you want to tell me about that?” the doctor asks gently.

She shakes her head, then buries her face into her knees. The doctor’s words fade out and all that remains is the sound of her mother crying, machines beeping, her own heart pounding. There’s another sound, humming and buzzing somewhere in the background, but she’s unable to identify it. It’s the most infuriating, the most overwhelming sound of all.

“Delphine?”

She looks up at him with large, doe-eyes. He recognizes that she hasn’t been listening to a word he’s been saying. He isn’t annoyed, though. He just offers her another smile.

“We want to keep you here for observation, just to make sure that everything’s okay. Another doctor will come to see you in the morning. Her name is Doctor Renton and she’s a very nice woman,” he speaks. “In fact, your parents have already spoken to her, but she wants to ask you a few questions herself. If everything is fine, you’ll be able to go home with your parents in a day or so. Do you understand?”

“I... I don’t want to be here!” she bursts.

“I understand that, but we’re trying to help you, Delphine. We need to make sure that you’re safe before we let you go home.”

“I _am_ safe!” she protests.

“Your mother says you want to be a doctor yourself someday. You understand how these things must work, then. It’s a doctor’s job to make sure that their patient receives the best possible care.”

“I don’t care! I want to go home!”

She’s oblivious to her own tears, to her trembling body, or the biting pain as she folds her arms over her chest and digs her nails into her biceps. She feels a wave of anger and frustration and fear begin to roll through her, over her, until she’s certain that her head is no longer above water and she’s drowning in these emotions.

“You need to settle down now,” the nurse from earlier tells her.

The doctor tries to speak quietly into the woman’s ear, whispering that she’ll need to administer some sort of drug, but for all the noise inside of her head, she’s still able to hear his words. She turns to her mother and father, eyes wide with fear. Her mother seems just as frightened as she is as her father holds her back, brow furrowed.

_“Maman! Papa!_ I want to go home!” she calls out to them. “I want to go home _now!”_

It’s not even home that she really wants. That house is probably just as stifling as this hospital room, but she’s just so desperate to escape that she thinks anywhere would be an improvement from where she is now. 

_“Please! Please take me home!”_

 

\+ + + + + + + + +

 

Her mother pulls the drapes back and light comes flooding into the room, striking her eyes. She groans and rolls over, pulling the covers over her head to create her own darkness and retreat into it. She’s always been an early riser but she just can’t force herself to crawl out of bed. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has nowhere to be; Doctor Renton had recommended that she not return to school immediately, that the stress of engaging with so many people in such a large and loud and unpredictable environment might push her over again. She couldn’t exactly disagree, either. Even as she was leaving the hospital, she found herself clutching to her mother as they walked down the hallway to the elevator and she was bombarded with patients and nurses and doctors and noises. 

Everything seems to be too much for her.

“Come now, Delphine. It’s already the afternoon. You should get out of bed and eat something.”

She ignores her mother, clutching the blankets a little tighter. She’s met by a momentary silence, but she knows that her mother has not abandoned her crusade yet. She stalks over to the side of the bed and tugs at the blankets, attempting to pry them from her daughter.

“Spending all day in bed isn’t going to help you feel any better,” her mother says. “Come downstairs with me, Delphine. We could bake just like we used to, or we could play a game or watch--”

“I don’t want to,” she mutters, grip on the blankets still firm.

“Even so, you should still try.”

“I’m tired of trying!”

Her mother freezes in fear and she can see her horrified expression even through the veil of sheets. She’s never yelled at her mother before, they’re both entirely too aware of this. It isn’t her mother that she’s angry with, per se, but the constant barrage of words and concern and noise.

Again with the noise.

_“D’accord._ You can just... just rest a little longer, then,” her mother says with a quiet, trembling voice. “You must be so tired. What was I thinking? You go back to bed now.”

Her mother makes a quick escape, closing the door gently behind her and she listens as she hears the woman tiptoe down the stairs. She turns onto her side, pulling the covers down just enough so that her eyes are unveiled, staring at the sun as it cuts through the window. 

Her own mother is afraid of her, afraid to talk to her, to touch her. Her father speaks to her even less so, now. She never wanted this. She never wanted people to see her as a victim, to treat her differently. She was never comfortable with having so many eyes on her in the first place and now there are even more people watching, judging, whispering.

No.

This is the exact opposite of what she wanted.

She isn’t able to pull herself from bed for another couple of days or so. She isn’t quite sure, they all seem to mesh together at this point. When she finally does make the perilous journey out of her room and down the stairs one evening, her mother is bursting with excitement.   


“Oh, you did it, Delphine! I knew you could do it!”

“I left my room,” she deadpans.

Such a feat hardly deserves the metaphorical parade her mother is currently throwing for her.

She sits at the dinner table with her parents that night, picking at her food with her fork but barely eating any of it. That’s when her mother first brings up the prospect of seeing a therapist, something that Doctor Renton had mentioned back at the hospital but failed to truly expand on.

“This Doctor Leekie could be good for you,” her mother says, setting down her fork. “Doctor Renton spoke very highly of him.”

“I don’t want to see a therapist.”

“Well, you have to do _something,_ Delphine. You can’t just spend the rest of your life hiding in your room.”

Her eyes drop to her lap and she slumps in her chair. There’s no sense in arguing with the woman and in all honesty, she’s too exhausted to, so she slinks away from the table with her plate, dumping her untouched dinner in the garbage before placing it in the sink and heading back upstairs. She hears her parents talking quietly amongst themselves as her heavy feet carry her up each step towards refuge.

Two days later, her mother brings up the prospect of therapy once again.

“Won’t you at least give it a chance, Delphine?”

“I don’t want to talk to a stranger,” she confesses, face buried in a book.

Her mother releases a frustrated sigh and she knows that the woman is trying her very best to be patient, but the younger girl is unintentionally making it very difficult for her. She pretends to ignore her mother’s frustration as she flips another page in her book.

“You don’t want to talk to someone you know, you don’t want to talk to someone you don’t know. You don’t want to take any of the pills Doctor Renton says might help you. Tell me, Delphine, just what _do_ you want to do?” her mother counters.

_“Please, Maman,”_ she says quietly. “Let’s not do this.”

She isn’t interested in what anyone else has to say. How could anyone else possibly know what’s going on inside of her head when she doesn’t even know herself? It seems meaningless to try, to have some middle-aged man try to dissect her.

That night, unable to sleep, she quietly scampers down to the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise and wake her sleeping parents. She places two pieces of bread into the toaster and as she waits for them to toast, she retrieves a jar of strawberry jam from the fridge. She then goes to the drawer with the cutlery to reach for a knife and releases a frustrated sigh when her hand fumbles with nothing but air. All of the sharp knives have been stored away somewhere beyond her knowledge, but she doesn’t understand why her mother took the liberty of hiding the butter knives, as well. She never heard of someone trying to off themselves with a butter knife. She grabs a spoon instead and jumps when she hears the familiar dinging of the toaster, indicating her toast is done. She jumps even higher when she father comes shuffling through the doorway.

_“B-Bonsoir, Papa,”_ she stutters, surprised by his presence.

He nods his head in greeting, narrowing his eyes at his daughter. She waits for him to move, to do something, but he remains still as a hostage and she closes the drawer with a little more force than necessary.

“Are you going to ask me about therapy, too?” she finally asks.

She’s heard the conversations her parents have been having, how her mother has begged him to talk to her. Her father was never the sentimental type so she didn’t think for a second that he would actually cede to her mother’s nagging and approach her.

_“Non.”_

His answer startles her, in all of its simplicity.

“You’ll do what you need to do, when you’re ready to do it,” he elaborates.

She clutches the spoon tighter in her hand, surprised by her father’s rare demonstration of insight. He turns his back on her, opening the fridge and rummaging through it for something. She watches him intently, unable to move from her position and return her attention to the forgotten toast on the counter.

“Your mother doesn’t understand,” he says. “She’s a mother. She doesn’t understand anything other then protecting you.”

“I don’t need her to protect me,” she mutters, shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“Perhaps,” he retorts.

He pulls himself from the fridge triumphantly, holding a carton of milk in his hand. He closes the door and treads over to the cabinet with the glasses, grabbing one and pouring himself a glass of milk.

“But she will, all the same.”

She knows this much is true and in that moment, she feels guilty. She never wanted to put her poor mother in this position, she never wanted her father to find her like _that._ She’d been so concerned with trying to make sense of the confusion swirling inside of her that she never really paid any attention to what she was doing to the other people in her life. She was standing in the eye of the storm, unable to fully grasp the outward damage from her silent torment.

“Do you think therapy will help?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

Her father takes a long gulp of milk, wipes the white moustache with the sleeve of his robe and shrugs.


	5. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Seriously, I'm so blown away by the response. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this piece so much. This chapter definitely has some more significant Cophine interaction, as does the next one. I'm just as excited as all of you to dive into their relationship and really explore the dynamics. Your comments are much appreciated :)

“So, I’m having a party this weekend.”

 

The proclamation comes as Cosima unceremoniously drops into the chair to Delphine’s right, a gentle huff escaping her lips in the process. Her eyes are fixed on the blonde, gauging her reaction and she slumps back in the chair with all the easiness of a summer breeze, sprawling and outstretching her limbs like a cat post-nap. Delphine looks up from her fidgeting hands which are resting in her lap, acknowledging Cosima’s words and pondering any potential connotation.

 

“A party?”

 

“Well, I guess “party” is a bit of an exaggeration,” Cosima replies with a shrug of her shoulders. “I’m having a few friends over at my place. We’re probably just gonna hang out, eat a bunch of crap and watch movies or whatever.”

 

Delphine’s eyes fall to her lap again, to her hands which have stopped fidgeting. She smiles coyly, fully aware of Cosima’s intent. Even still, she says nothing, waiting expectantly for the shorter girl to come out and plainly say it.

 

“So... are you game or what?”

 

Delphine finally meets Cosima’s gaze, her smile sheepish but still firm. Cosima counters with a large, unabashed grin of her own and she cocks her head slightly to the side, waiting for the French girl’s answer.

 

“I thought this was supposed to be a secret?” Delphine asks. “I thought you didn’t want your friends knowing about me?”

 

Her interrogation is half-hearted, more of a mild attempt at teasing than anything else. She recalls the conversation they had in Cosima’s car a week prior where they promised to be each other’s “dirty little secret,” Cosima’s remedy to Delphine’s fear surrounding her friends knowing the truth about her situation. Of course, if Delphine showed up at Cosima’s house with all of Cosima’s friends there, it was very likely that someone would ask them how they knew each other and then the ugly truth would come out.

 

“I know, I know. But I never actually said that I didn’t want my friends knowing about _you_ ,” Cosima says quickly. “And you said that you didn’t get out very much so I thought--”

 

“That I’d be your charity case.”

 

Delphine’s smile falters as she misinterprets the motive behind Cosima’s invitation. Does Cosima just think of her as some screwed up basket case? Does she feel bad for her? Is that why she’s being so nice? 

 

“No! Not at all. That’s not it,” Cosima insists.

 

As Delphine feels her confidence begin to plummet, Cosima hesitantly places a gentle hand on her forearm. She’s uncertain if the touch is welcome and she doesn’t want to impose herself on the fragile blonde, knowing all too well how both frustrating and frightening any sort of uninvited contact is. When Delphine doesn’t recoil or swat her away, she accepts it as a silent sign of permission and she slowly slides her hand down until her fingers loosely encircle Delphine’s wrist.

 

“I don’t think of you as a charity case,” she emphasizes. “It’s more like...”

 

Delphine reluctantly finds Cosima’s eyes again while hiding behind the imagined safety of her long lashes and a veil of curls, as if these trifles are an effective barrier from the exchange of such foreign emotions. She searches the brunette, searches for an answer, every synapse sparking with curiosity, every atom at attention.

 

Just what is it like?

 

Cosima sighs deeply, honestly.

 

“Look, if you don’t wanna come, it’s fine. I won’t be offended or anything. You can just say it.”

 

“No, no! It’s not that!”

 

Delphine is quick to respond, shaking her head wildly. How could she have been so foolish? Now Cosima thinks she doesn’t want to go to her party, that she doesn’t trust the quirky brunette who has been nothing but kind and forward with her from the start. Cosima had saved her from having an episode last week, has offered her company when she’s had none and a pair of capable ears amongst a sea of deaf ones. She stares down where they connect, where Cosima’s hand is still patiently enclosed around her wrist. She stares down and her eyes well up. 

 

“Okay. I believe you,” Cosima coos, instantly sensing the blonde’s rapidly declining mood, trying to mend it with her words before it’s past the point of fixing. 

 

“I-It’s just that... well... my parents won’t let me leave the house,” she begins to explain. “I’m not even allowed to go to school. They’re worried that being around other people will be too stressful for me right now.”

 

Cosima finally withdraws her hand and Delphine immediately finds herself missing the warmth from her touch. She brings her fingers to her naked wrist, absently stroking it as she worries her lower lip between her teeth.

 

“I’d love to go to your party, but I just don’t think that my parents will allow it.”

 

Cosima hums.

 

“I guess that’s fair,” she concludes.

 

“I-I’ll ask anyway, though,” Delphine is quick to add.

 

Cosima nods in agreement, her smile returning. Upon seeing this, Delphine finds her own smile again, a wave of relief washing over her. 

 

“Okay. Well, if they let you come...”

 

Cosima digs into her bag, pulling out a pen a moment later. She reaches for Delphine, softly grabbing her arm and outstretching the limb, pulling the sleeve of her shirt up higher to expose the length of her arm. The pen’s point is cool against the blonde’s alabaster skin, sending a tiny shiver down her spine and raising fleshy bumps as Cosima scribbles her messy script.

 

“That’s my address,” she clarifies. “Saturday night. I think the others are gonna come around seven, but anytime after is good.”

 

She releases Delphine’s arm again and the European raises it, tilting her head to inspect the writing curiously.

 

“Sorry. I know it’s kinda archaic, but you said your parents took your phone, so...”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Cosima giggles, her tongue poking out from behind her teeth. She’s on her feet again, buttoning up her coat as the taller girl watches her intently. Doctor Leekie will be calling her in for her appointment any second now and Cosima senses this, readying herself to leave. Delphine watches her all the way to the elevators and when the doors slide shut, a part of her leaves with the brunette. 

 

“You seem to be in good spirits today.”

 

She smiles faintly when Leekie’s words reach her ears, sitting up a little straighter in the chair and leaning forward. He watches her with a patient curiosity, intrigued by her change in demeanor. 

 

“I am,” she confirms. “I feel...”

 

How does she feel?

 

Almost human again, she’s tempted to say.

 

“I suppose I feel better than I have in a long time.”

 

“I’m happy to hear it,” he replies, a reserved smile appearing. “There must be a reason for this good mood. Any new developments?”

 

He says this as though her life is filled to the brim with drama and excitement which definitely isn’t the case, considering the fact that she’s been quarantined to her house, like a bird in a glass cage.

 

“It’s kind of hard for anything to happen when I’m not allowed to leave my house,” she mumbles.

 

She doesn’t mean to sulk, but she thinks of Cosima and how badly she wants to go to her party and she feels cheated by life, by circumstance. She feels as though she’s being punished and she doesn’t exactly know what for. 

 

“I see your point,” he agrees. “Well, perhaps you’re ready to be reintroduced to the world.”

 

_“Vraiment?”_ she asks, perking up.“I can go back to school?”

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he laughs. “Baby steps, Delphine.”

 

She’s tempted to frown and withdraw into herself but she tries to hold onto the tiny sliver of light she can see shining through what must be this “bright side” everyone’s always talking about. At least Doctor Leekie agrees with her that being locked away in her room like some demented princess in a tower isn’t exactly conducive to her supposed recovery.

 

“Let’s start with a few simple tasks.”

 

“Okay. Like what?”

 

He begins jotting notes down on a pad of paper

 

“You can try going for walks around your neighbourhood, maybe running errands with your mother--“

 

“What about a party?”

 

He stops writing, his brows raised as he inspects her more closely. He sees through the guise, finally discerning what this is all about; there’s someplace particular she has in mind, someplace she wants to go, someone she wants to see. It’s spurred a reaction in her that neither of them can ignore.

 

“Do you really think you’re ready for a party?” he asks her. “That seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

 

“Well, it’s not _really_ a party.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“A friend of mine is having a few of her friends over and I was invited. I thought that maybe... maybe it would be nice to go and be around different people,” she confesses.

 

She tugs on the sleeve of her shirt, hoping that he falls for her excuse because she isn’t exactly comfortable disclosing her true intent to him just yet. In all honesty, she isn’t exactly sure of her own intentions herself, but she does know that even though she wants to get out of the house, she isn’t really interested in meeting any of Cosima’s friends. It’s not that she’s opposed to meeting them, she’s simply disinterested. It’s Cosima she wants to see, everyone else is just a side thought, like clouds to a sunbather.

 

“I think that might be nice for you, as well.”

 

She can’t contain her grin.

 

“Who is this friend of yours?”

 

She’s slowly revealing more to him, although she isn’t fully aware that his line of questioning is purposeful. He’s a fisherman, dangling the bait and giving her more and more line until she feels safe and certain enough to bite, though he performs with all the precision of a surgeon in the operating room. He’s hunting for a very particular answer, one he’s certain he’ll pull out of her with a little more guidance.

 

“You haven’t mentioned any of your friends before. I’m just curious,” he shrugs.

 

Her knee bounces rapidly, her teeth sinking deeper into her lip as she tugs a little harder on her sleeve. She doesn’t know why she’s so anxious to tell him. Perhaps a part of her is afraid of what he’ll say. After all, Cosima _is_ one of his patients. He knows far more about her than she does and maybe he’ll reveal a truth that she’s not ready to hear, something that will contradict the image she’s built for her new friend.

 

“Actually, it’s... um... it’s Cosima.”

 

She searches him very closely, trying to read his reaction. He must have a lot of practice with concealing his judgement because she’s unable to read him. She thinks that maybe he’s a little surprised by her revelation, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem particularly overjoyed for her blossoming friendship.

 

“You two are getting along, then?” is all he asks.

 

“We’ve been talking more,” she nods. “She waited for me after my appointment with you last week. We spoke.”

 

“What did you talk about?”

 

“Nothing really. We just talked about ourselves, the things we like, school. The usual stuff.”

 

He’s silent, still observing. She realizes that he’s waiting for her to continue, to disclose more about their relationship. She remembers how Cosima stopped her from having an episode, how it felt so pivotal to her. She’d written it down in the journal Doctor Leekie had given to her after her first session so that she could remind herself to tell him.

 

“My mother was late to pick me up. I went to look for her in the parking lot and she wasn’t there. I felt myself... slipping,” she explains.

 

“What happened?”

 

Her leg stops bouncing on its own accord and she feels her body begin to relax. It usually isn’t so easy for her to detail accounts of her incidents, but she tries her hardest to explain it to him, to try to capture how she was feeling in that moment. She could always remember the intense emotions, although she didn’t have a name for them. That was the hardest part-- trying to describe something that wasn’t in her vocabulary. It was like explaining colour to someone who couldn’t see; she could discuss it in the abstract, even explain the theory behind light and how it bends and how our eyes perceive it, but even still, that other person would never truly understand red until they saw it themselves. She could tell them how red insights passion and love and anger and hatred, sometimes all at the very same time or in sequential order, but that person would never understand what that weird spiral felt like, how it had a distinct taste and scent, how it occupied a very specific space in a very specific moment in time. It seems so pointless to her to sit there and try to describe her emotions to Doctor Leekie -- to explain red to a blind man -- but here she is anyway.

 

“Well, I could feel another... incident starting to happen,” she starts, a slight waver to her voice. “But Cosima was there and she talked me down. She waited with me until my mother arrived and we just talked. It was nice.”

 

She sees it.

 

A slight deviation, a contortion of the muscles in his face. Doctor Leekie has said or shown nothing to give away his own feelings on the subject of her friendship with Cosima, but just there, she sees a break. She doesn’t know what to call it but she’s certain of what she’s seen. It had been a reaction, though what caused it, she didn’t know.

 

“What is it?” she asks, fixating on that unnameable expression.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“You look... concerned?”

 

She doesn’t know if that’s right, but it seems the closest.

 

“Do I?”

 

“When I told you that Cosima and I are friends, you looked concerned, just then.”

 

She’s _certain_ that she saw it. 

 

There’s no way she could have imagined it... could she?

 

“Why don’t you tell me about what happened in the parking lot?” he asks, steering the conversation in a different direction. “What was going through your mind once you realized that your mother wasn’t there?”

 

She frowns.

 

Maybe she _had_ imagined it.

 

“My mother is always on time. I can’t remember her ever being late for anything,” she says, trying to redirect her focus to Leekie’s question and forget the sinking feeling in her stomach. “So, when I didn’t see her there when she said she would be, I started to panic.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

She says so honestly. Her panic had felt instinctual to her, like there was no real reason behind it, or at least not any she could discern. Her mind had gone blank as she was overcome by a tidal wave of anxiety, drowning in its bottomless depths.

 

“Were you worried that something had happened to her? That you had no way to get home?” Leekie asks, trying to pinpoint the exact cause of her anxiety.

 

“Not really. It was more...” 

 

She tries to summon the proper words. Her almost-incident had nothing to do with her mother and everything to do with herself; her mother’s absence just happened to be the catalyst, the match that lit the pre-existing fuse. She wasn’t afraid because she had no way to get home or because something bad might have happened to her mother.

 

“I was exactly where I was supposed to be, I was having a good day and then that happened,” she begins, speaking slowly, each word purposeful. “I guess it just sort of made me realize that... it doesn’t matter if you do everything right, if you make all the right choices, if things seem to be going well. Things can still go wrong without any sort of warning, without a reason.”

 

“Ah. Yes. Control.”

 

She nods.

 

That was what had escaped her that day. 

 

That’s what this is really about.

 

Control. 

 

“I realized that I had no control over my situation... that I _have_ no control,” she confesses. “A-And if I don’t have any control, then just... what’s the point?”

 

What was the point in getting up everyday, in being the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the beauty and the brain, if a simple gust of wind could just come along and blow her entire world to pieces? Why try so hard to build something that could and would most likely be gone in the blink of an eye? What was it all for?

 

“What’s the point in doing anything if the universe is just going to decide to do what it wants to anyway? What’s the point in making choices if they’re meaningless?”

 

That’s how she had felt that day in the parking lot. That’s how she had felt when she woke up in the hospital and even before that, when she’d made the stupid decision to succumb to it. Hopeless. No matter how much she achieved, no matter how hard she tried to build the perfect life that she was always told she should want, there always seemed to be that pesky gust of wind at her tail, nipping and pushing and threatening to knock her off her unsteady feet with every step she took. She doesn’t remember when she first started noticing it, but now she’s all too familiar with the feel of its chill biting at her ankles. She can recognize it right away, and that’s when the fear starts to sink in-- when she realizes that she’s about to be swept up in it.

 

“Is that what you think? That all of your choices are meaningless?” Leekie asks, eyeing her carefully.

 

She shrugs.

 

“I’m not sure. It was just a thought.”

 

He becomes very silent and she can hear the clock in his office tick as she reverts to chewing on her lower lip, staring down at her feet, heart slamming in her chest. He must certainly think she’s crazy now. There’s no way he’s ever going to let her go to Cosima’s party, let alone back out into the real world. He’s going to send her away.

 

“You want to go to Cosima’s party, don’t you?”

 

Not what she’s expecting.

 

“W-Well, yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

She ponders his question. Why does she want to go to Cosima’s party so badly? That’s easy. She wants to see Cosima. But why does she want to see Cosima so badly? That answer is less clear to her. All she knows is that when Cosima’s near, the howling at her back dies down. Cosima has a wind entirely of her own. She’s certain of this, even though she can’t physically see it. Perhaps it’s the comfort of knowing that if she’s going to be swept she’ll at least have company. Or maybe Cosima’s wind cancels out her own? 

 

“If you really think that all of your choices are meaningless, why have you decided that you want to go anyway? Why choose to talk to her at all, to make a new friend, to let someone else in?” Leekie continues to press. “It can’t be completely meaningless to you, otherwise you would choose not to engage.”

 

Her eyes widen as her silent realization hits her.

 

“You see, Delphine. You _do_ have control. You can control what choices you do or don’t make,” he tells her. “The universe is an arbitrary place and we all have very little say in how it decides to play out. _This_ is the way we make sense of that. This is how we make our lives our own.”

 

But is it enough? Is simply making the choice enough? What if it’s the wrong choice?  If she chooses wrong, does it still count for anything? Will it really make a difference in the long run? Will it really make her any happier?

 

“I know it probably feels as though you’ve completely lost any control you may have once had and I understand that. Many people feel that way at some point in their lives. But I can tell you that there are ways to get it back.”

 

“How?” she asks, meeting his gaze earnestly.

 

“It won’t always be like this, Delphine, but you have to choose to want something different. You have to choose to want better for yourself, to want to change.”

 

She _does_ want to change. She thinks she wants to be more like Cosima, to be more free with her wind, but she doesn’t know how. 

 

“How do I do that?”

 

He smiles, standing up from his chair. He walks over to her and his closeness startles her. Aside from shaking his hand when they first met, they haven’t had any sort of contact. He places a hand on her shoulder in a bid to comfort her, but it isn’t like Cosima’s touch at all. 

 

“You start by doing _this_ , by coming to see me every week and talking,” he answers. “You’ve already decided to do that, you’re already on the path. That means that you’ve decided that this isn’t all meaningless after all.”

 

Maybe Doctor Leekie is right. She’s decided to come here and talk to him every week. She’s decided that she wants to be Cosima’s friend. Even though she doesn’t fully understand the motivation behind any of the decisions that she’s made in the past few weeks, she knows it’s there and it hadn’t been before. Maybe it was at one point, but she’d lost it. Was this her way of regaining it?

 

“Go to Cosima’s party. You can tell me all about it next week.”

 

Her face lights up.

 

“If it goes well and if our next appointment is productive, I’ll recommend to your parents that you be allowed to return to school.”

 

When she leaves Doctor Leekie’s office, she’s bursting at the seams with excitement. A part of her wants to tell Cosima right now, but then another part wants to see the look of surprise on the brunette’s face when she answers the door and Delphine is standing before her. She thinks that would be reason enough to go in the first place. 

 


	6. Misfit Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Here it is-- the party. Hope you all enjoy :)

She watches as her mother pulls out of the driveway and disappears down the quiet street, leaving her in her own care for the first time since everything went wrong. There’s a part of her that feels inclined to panic as her mother’s car leaves her field of vision; there’s no turning back now, no escape. If she had been anyplace else, seeing anyone else, there was a very good possibility that she’d be experiencing another episode right about now. However, as she stands in front of the door to Cosima’s house and presses the doorbell, she feels a different kind of anxiety. Is her hair in place? Does her dress look good? She’d opted to go a little more formal than she usually did, donning a short and simple blue cocktail dress that stopped just above her knees, and it wasn’t until she found herself standing on Cosima’s porch that she realized she didn’t even know what kind of affair it would be. She wanted to look good, to impress. She wasn’t sure why, but it was important to her. But now, knowing Cosima and what her friends are probably like, she thinks she’s overdressed and will probably stick out like a sore thumb, which is the last thing she wants.

 

_“Merde,”_ she curses under her breath.

 

For someone so bright, she’s such a fool at times.

 

The door swings open rapidly and she has no more time to question her poor decision making skills because Cosima is standing before her with the biggest smile she’s ever seen plastered to her face.

 

“Hey! You’re here!” she exclaims.

 

Delphine smiles back and nods in agreement.

 

_“Oui_. I’m free.”

 

Cosima opens the door wider, allowing Delphine to step inside. She takes a second to glance around and she deduces that Cosima’s house is cozy, warm. She seems to fit very well within its walls which are adorned with artwork and tapestries with Eastern influences. As she’s observing, she’s oblivious to Cosima’s eyes which take a quick moment to scan her over, taking in the dress and the curls.

 

“Wow,” she expels. “You look really nice.”

 

Delphine’s attention immediately returns to Cosima and she feels the heat on her face before the blush actually begins to manifest, tucking a vagrant curl behind her ear as she tries to contain her smile.

 

“O-Oh. Thank you. I was worried that perhaps it was too much.”

 

Cosima shakes her head.

 

“Not at all. I’m a fan.”

 

She follows Cosima deeper inside, allowing the shorter girl to lead her through the house while she wears a timid smile. When she opens a door leading downstairs into the basement, an eruption of laughter and shouting can be heard. Cosima turns to offer her another reassuring smile, then leads her down the stairs to join the rest of the party. Delphine smoothes out her dress and follows nervously behind, stopping once she reaches the bottom of the stairs. She takes a moment to observe the scene unfolding before her; there are two other girls there, a boy, and one who’s gender she’s honestly unsure of. One of the brunettes is loud and brash, with wild and unruly hair and a tattered leather jacket that seems to match her personality. She spits out heavily-accented curse words and props her dirty boots up on the table, much to the dismay of the other girl who is sitting in the armchair across from her. Unlike her edgier counterpart, her hair is neat and perfectly parted, her ensemble simple and reserved, pink clashing with her foul-mouthed friend’s black. Her posture is rigid and even though she’s clearly annoyed by the other girl, she wears a tight-lipped smile. The boy in their midst is scrawny but attractive, wearing more makeup than the wild one to his right and an easy, mischievous grin. He feeds off the darker girl’s energy, the two of them playing off each other and cackling. Then there’s the other one, the creature somewhere in between that occupies the second couch by their lonesome. At first, Delphine thinks they might be a girl; their features are soft like the other two ladies, though they wear them with such distain, she can’t help but feel like such features don’t suit their owner. Their hair is a messy, a tangled mop atop their head, their clothes loose and baggy and undoubtedly of the male variety. They speak with a slightly deeper, smoother drawl that screams “male” and confuses the blonde.

 

“Hey, guys. This is Delphine. I told you she might come, remember?”

 

Cosima introduces her and Delphine finds herself blushing under so many eyes, ducking her head to avert her gaze. She fidgets, toying with the neckline of her dress, waiting for someone to speak. She feels as though she’s being evaluated, waiting for news of either a passing or failing grade.

 

“Oh. _Now_ I get it,” the scrawny boy speaks, giving Delphine a once over.

 

The leather-clad girl strikes quickly, her fist lashing out to swat him in the arm. He yelps in surprise, possibly pain, but is quick to laugh the assault off as he rubs his arm with a devious grin.

 

“Pack it in,” she warns him.

 

“Hey. The boy ain’t wrong, is he?” the ambiguous individual throws, wriggling their eyebrows.

 

Cosima shoots them all a warning glare, then gestures with a nod of her head towards the blonde,silently instructing the rest of them to engage with and welcome their new guest. Delphine doesn’t catch the gesture, her eyes still anxiously fixed on the floor. The brutish one narrows her eyes, carefully and quietly analyzing the uncertain blonde before her, as if trying to decide whether or not Delphine can be trusted, though with what, no one is entirely sure. The scrawny boy folds his arms over his chest and watches Delphine while the smooth-talking one looks on with a crooked grin of their own. Finally, the well-groomed one stands up from her chair, the motion catching Delphine’s attention. She looks up from her feet and meets the girl’s eyes.

 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Delphine. I’m Alison,” she introduces herself, offering Delphine a smile. “Why don’t you come sit down with us?”

 

The corner of her lips upturn into the slightest smile and she nods back in greeting. She looks over to Cosima at her side, the familiar brunette smiling back at her, reassuring. _Always reassuring._

 

“Sure. Yeah. Come and sit, Blondie. There’s plenty of room over here,” the rugged one says with their own grin, patting the spot next to them on the sofa. “I always liked the French.”

 

“Of course you do,” the sassy boy speaks, rolling his eyes.

 

“Hey. I like the Brits, too. You can colonize me anytime you want, Fee Fee.”

 

They smirk, waiting for a reaction. 

 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tony?”

 

The one called Tony shrugs.

 

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

 

“Ignore those two knobs,” the brash young woman interjects, addressing Delphine. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

 

“That’s almost funny coming from you,” the boy retorts.

 

Delphine watches the back and forth with great curiosity. There’s a strange but powerful dynamic at play, one she’s nervous about stepping into. From the looks of things, they’ve all been friends for quite some time and they know Cosima a lot better than she does. She feels out of place and foolish, like some sort of trespasser.

 

“This is Sarah,” Cosima says, gesturing towards the Brit. “That’s her foster brother, Felix. You already know Alison and Prince Charming over there is Tony.”

 

Delphine nods, slowly processing the barrage of names. 

 

_“Enchantee,”_ she says softly, greeting the group with a polite bow of her head.

 

When she looks up again, everyone is shooting her a quizzical glance. Everyone except Cosima, who flashes her a megawatt smile. She beckons for Delphine to come closer, to join the rest of them, and the French girl hesitantly takes a few steps forward.

 

“What’s her deal?” Felix mutters into Sarah’s ear.

 

“Don’t worry about Felix. He can’t stand it when he isn’t the prettiest one in the room,” Tony winks.

 

Delphine smiles sheepishly, finally accepting Tony’s offer and dropping into the spot on the sofa next to him. He stretches his arms over the top of the sofa and relaxes, offering her an impish smile. Cosima then sits down next to the blonde, sandwiching her between the two. Delphine rests her hands in her lap, watching the brother and sister duo snap at each other. Without a word, Alison quietly disappears up the stairs and before she can really question it, Tony is speaking again.

 

“Oh! Before I forget,” he says, digging into the pocket of his denim jacket. “Your birthday present.”

 

He reveals a Ziplock bag full of a pungent green herb, his grin spreading even wider. Even though Delphine has never smoked it herself, she recognizes the drug immediately. Cosima giggles, reaching over Delphine to graciously accept the offering.

 

“It’s from _all of us_ , yeah?” Sarah adds.

 

The entire exchange confuses the blonde and she glances around the room, her eyes shifting from person to person with a furrowed brow until they settle on Cosima again. Tony had said that it was Cosima’s birthday present, which must have meant that it was Cosima’s birthday. 

 

“Birthday? It’s your birthday?” she asks, turning to face the petite brunette.

 

They all look to Cosima.

 

“You invited her to your birthday party and didn’t even tell her it’s your birthday?” Felix asks.

 

Delphine frowns. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

 

Cosima shrugs, trying to dismiss the question with a bout of reserved laughter.

 

“It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything.”

 

Delphine’s shoulders slump, her mood deflating.

 

“I would have brought you a present. Everybody else did,” she mutters.

 

She feels the anxiety tugging at her brain. Here she is, sitting amongst complete strangers who probably think she’s some sort of head case. Had Cosima told them the truth? Would Cosima do that? Did it really matter? Either way, she doesn’t belong. She’d been so desperate to be a part of _something_ , she didn’t give any thought into what it was she was forcibly inserting herself into. It was easy to talk to Cosima on her own terms, when it was just the two of them in their bubble of understanding, but while she was here with her friends in her basement, she found herself all too conscious of every word leaving her mouth. She thinks back to her last session with Doctor Leekie, how they spoke of control and how her lack of it was often what spurred her episodes. Right now, there’s definitely an absence of control and it’s beginning to knot her stomach.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cosima says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re here. Honestly. That’s all I wanted.”

 

When she searches Cosima’s eyes, it’s all too easy for her to believe the spectacled girl and she breathes a sigh of relief, feeling the tension leave her body as quickly as it came. Tony swiftly moves from his spot, standing and moving over to where Sarah and Felix are sitting in a bid to give Cosima and Delphine a little more privacy.

 

“If... you know... if this is too much, if my friends are too much, just let me know,” Cosima says lowly, for Delphine’s ears alone. “I’ll drive you home, or we can call your mom to come and get you.”

 

“No, it’s fine. Your friends are fine,” Delphine replies.

 

“Okay. Good,” Cosima beams. “They’re really chill people. They don’t judge.”

 

Delphine nods, watching as Tony sprawls himself out across Sarah and Felix’s laps, Felix tugging on his hair as he laughs.

 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to pretend around them. Believe me, they’re all dealing with their own shit, too. They won’t think any less of you,” Cosima adds.

 

Somehow, Delphine has a hard time believing that this band of ruffians are as mentally distraught as she is. Sensing this, Cosima begins speaking again.

 

“Alison? She’s completely neurotic. She can’t even leave the house unless her socks match her shoes and her shoes match her outfit and her outfit matches whatever.”

 

Delphine expels the tiniest giggle. That was definitely the impression she got from Alison before the uptight girl disappeared upstairs. She seemed so out of place amongst the others, who had such easy and laid back energies.

 

“Tony? He’s great, but still coming to terms with the whole “he-ness” part. Well, at least his parents are. He doesn’t talk about them all that much, unless he’s making a joke or ragging on them. I think it’s harder on him than he wants us to know.”

 

She watches Tony with great fascination. She’s perfectly aware of gender dysphoria, though she’s never met anyone who’s experienced it before. She thinks it must be one of the hardest things; if _she_ can’t even feel comfortable in her own body, she can’t imagine how hard it must be for someone like him. Everyday must be a war, she thinks. A war against society, against biology, against what is seen and what is felt. 

 

“Sarah and Felix are from a broken home. Felix isn’t so bad under all that sass and glitter, but Sarah? Geez, I don’t even know where to begin with her. At least she keeps things interesting and in her defense, I don’t think she actually _tries_ to ruin everything.”

 

It makes sense. Behind all of the brunette’s crassness is an extremely guarded individual. Delphine often felt guilty when complaining about her own family when there were so many others who either didn’t have one or had a terrible one full of abuse. What right did she have to complain? She had no doubt that her parents loved her and would do anything for her. Somehow, she still couldn’t find peace in that knowledge. What did that say about her as a person? She felt ungrateful and guilty. 

 

“They’re all great though. The best,” Cosima confirms.

 

“What about you?”

 

She stares Cosima directly in the eyes and the shorter girl arches a brow.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Alison is neurotic. Tony is transgender. Felix and Sarah come from a broken home. What about you?”

 

The question has been nagging at her ever since she met Cosima, but she refrained from asking it for fear of being too forward and offending her new friend. Cosima hesitates, trying to decide how to properly respond. Delphine leans in, anxiously awaiting her answer. Just as she’s about to speak, the lights go out and the dim glow of candles descending down the stairs is the only source of light. It’s Alison, slowly making her way towards them with a cake in her hands. 

 

“Oh God,” Cosima mumbles, burying her face in her hands.

 

The others all laugh and immediately slip into a butchered, off-tune rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Once the song concludes, they pressure Cosima into making a wish and the birthday girl takes a deep breath, blowing out the candles. Alison carefully cuts the cake into neat, perfect pieces and places them on paper plates, passing them out to everyone. In a matter of minutes, the gluttonous fiends that are Sarah and Tony have devoured half of the cake themselves and Delphine inconspicuously watches Cosima lick a large glob of icing off her fork out of the corner of her eye. It all seems so light and easy, so simple. 

 

“How long have you all been friends?” Delphine asks.

 

“We’ve all known each other since the fourth grade,” Sarah manages through a mouthful of cake.

 

“You’ve been friends a long time, then,” Delphine says absently.

 

“The island of misfit toys, yeah?”

 

Once the cake is vanquished, Felix digs into his bag and retrieves a 26 of vodka. That’s when the party really begins. Delphine has never been much of a drinker herself aside from the occasional glass of wine that her parents allow her, so she hangs back and watches as Sarah, Felix and Tony down shot after shot, occasionally forcing one into Alison’s hand and laughing as the uptight girl slowly loosens with each and every gulp. They never offer Cosima any liquor and she explains to Delphine that she doesn’t drink either-- pot being her only vice-- so the two of them talk amongst themselves as the others indulge. Delphine likes it best this way, being able to watch the others enjoy themselves while she has Cosima’s attention. It feels like a happy medium; she doesn’t feel overwhelmed or overstimulated with Cosima to keep her grounded, even as the others slowly become more boisterous as the night progresses. 

 

“What are you two talking about over there?” Felix drunkenly bellows, trying to free himself from under the weight of Tony.

 

“Yeah. You’re looking pretty damn comfy,” Tony agrees. 

 

“Don’t you worry about it, Ton,” Cosima replies. “Have another drink.”

 

A second later, Tony and Felix are barreling over towards them. Both girls let out a squeal as the boys throw themselves on top of them, trapping them beneath a pile of lanky limbs. Sarah releases a full-bellied laugh as she watches the shenanigans unfold before her and even Alison, now sufficiently drunk, can’t hold back proof of her amusement.

 

“Alright, alright! That’s enough! Off!” Cosima giggles.

 

Tony plants a sloppy kiss upon her lips and Delphine’s eyes remain fixed on the two as Cosima returns his playful affection, grinning into his lips. She feels fire from her toes up to her ears, uncertain of how to respond to it, so she opts for quickly maneuvering herself out of the cuddle puddle. She’s standing in front of them and they all stare at her expectantly.

 

“I-I have to... uh...  _toilette_. ”

 

“Oh. Sure,” Cosima replies. “It’s on the second floor. First door on your right once you get up the stairs.”

 

Delphine nods eagerly and is flying up the basement stairs without looking back. She can hear her heart thrumming in her ears and her body acts on autopilot, leading her up the second set of stairs to the second floor. She enters through the first door on her right like Cosima instructed her to do and she’s in the bathroom. Once the door is shut and locked behind her, she finally has time to gather her thoughts. She pulls the lid of the toilet down and sits, allowing her head to lull forward until it is hanging between her knees. 

 

She breathes deeply, clamping her eyes shut. This isn’t an anxiety attack, or if it is, it’s different than any one she’s experienced before. Her head is swimming, but it’s not fear that she’s drowning in. Her mind keeps flashing back to Tony and Cosima, to that kiss. She knows there was no intent behind it other than platonic affection... right? Either way, thinking about that instant has her blood rushing, flooding into places she wasn’t aware existed. She takes a few more steadying breaths, blinking back the delirium while chewing on her lower lip. After a couple more minutes of solitudes, she determines that she’s ready and decides to rejoin the party. 

 

She exits the bathroom and is about to descend down the stairs, but a partially opened door catches her attention and she crosses the hallway on a hunch, curious to peer inside. Her curiosity is rewarded when she pushes the door open a little wider and she’s standing in the doorway to Cosima’s room. She knows it must be Cosima’s because it’s definitely not an adult’s bedroom and Cosima doesn’t have any siblings as far as she knows. There are books strewn about all over the floor and she steps over them like land mines as she wanders through the room. She can picture the clever girl on the ground, reading through whatever has captured her momentary interest. Right now, it appears to be Jules Verne; there’s a borrowed copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, as well as Journey to the Center of the Earth. She spots a paperback, translated version of Candide, and even a copy of Madame Bovary. She smiles to herself and when she glances over to Cosima’s bed, her smile grows even wider. She reaches out, grabbing a stuffed animal that’s resting atop her pillows. It’s a plush dinosaur, a green tyrannosaurus rex with a large, permanently-opened mouth and a row of soft, triangular felt teeth.

 

“Look at you, making another new friend.”

 

She whips around and Cosima is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She wears a coy smile and Delphine blushes, her eyes falling to her feet in shame. She’s been caught red-handed while in the midst of snooping. She expects Cosima to be angry with her or at the very least, annoyed.

 

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to--”

 

“It’s fine,” Cosima cuts her off, waving her hand. “You got distracted by Drax.”

 

“Drax?”

 

She gestures to the plush toy in Delphine’s hand.

 

“Oh. Yes,” Delphine nods.

 

Cosima steps into the room, approaching her slowly. She reaches forward, waiting for Delphine to place the doll in her hand. Once she does, Cosima pats its head lovingly, smiling down at the soft, inanimate critter.

 

“When I was a six, I went on this trip with my parents to New York. We went to the Museum of Natural History to see the dinosaur exhibit,” she explains. “That’s where I got him.”

 

She can picture it so well, a young Cosima dashing through the museum as her parents chase after her, bombarding them with her hundreds of questions, most likely driving them insane. She thinks it would take a lot of patience to raise a child like Cosima, though it was probably a rewarding experience. 

 

“I’m sorry if we weirded you out down there,” Cosima says, redirecting the conversation.

 

Delphine shakes her head.

 

“No, no. Not at all. It’s fine. I just...”

 

She stops herself, searching for the proper words.

 

“Tony and I have been friends for a long time. We’ve been friends through everything. We’re close,” Cosima explains. “I guess it might come off as weird to someone looking in from outside.”

 

That was the answer she was expecting. Even still, she can’t stop herself from asking the next question. 

 

“Do you... like him?”

 

“What? Oh, God no! He’s like a brother to me!” Cosima protests, laughing at the notion. “Same thing with Felix and Sarah and Alison. They’re like my brothers and sisters. I could never have a thing for them.”

 

She balls her fists, clenching and unclenching them, trying to will away the dryness in her mouth as she works up the courage to ask her next question and prepare for an answer she might not want to hear.

 

“But... you have things? For girls? Sometimes?”

 

Cosima eyes her closely, carefully. 

 

“I like people,” she says.

 

Delphine nods, mulling Cosima’s answer. Now that the truth is out in the open, she feels like she can breathe a little easier. She had never thought to question Cosima’s sexuality until she saw her kiss Tony just minutes ago. Bearing witness had sparked something to life inside of her, something she’d never considered before. She never knew any queer people, never really considered it as an option, but she thinks it isn’t so outlandish to her now. Is that why her heart pounded so fast whenever she heard Cosima’s voice? Is that why she dolled herself up to come to her party? Was Cosima suddenly an _option_? If she was, just what was the question? What was the alternative?  


“Is that... okay?” Cosima asks, breaching the silence.

 

_“Oui_. _Bien sur,”_ Delphine quickly responds.

 

Cosima is beaming again and it’s glorious.

 

“Cool. That’s awesome,” she agrees.

 

She straightens out her dress again and watches as Cosima returns Drax to his rightful place. Cosima then proceeds to quickly tidy the space, gathering the books littering her floor and placing them on her desk.

 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that... all of my friends are very... I guess you could say... normal?” she explains, struggling to find the proper words.

 

“Straight and narrow,” Cosima summarizes, finishing with her task.

 

Delphine hums in agreement.

 

“I’m just not used to it, I suppose. I’m not really used to any of this. You are all so open, so fluid with each other,” she confesses.

 

“Like I said, we’ve known each other for a long time. We’ve been through a lot together,” Cosima retorts with a shrug of her shoulders. “Incidentally, that won’t stop them from trashing my shit if I leave them alone for too long.”

 

Delphine nods in understanding and follows Cosima as she leads her out of her bedroom with the intent of rejoining the others.

 

“You’re very lucky to have friends like them,” Delphine speaks, following Cosima down the stairs. “And they’re very lucky to have you.”

 

“Yeah. I know,” Cosima agrees. “But you know what else?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m lucky to have _you_ as a friend, Delphine.”

 

 

 


	7. No Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** As always, thank you so much for the amazing and overwhelming response. I've been blown away by how many of you have really connected with this fic, which is honestly the greatest thing any writer could ask for. I hope you enjoy this next one just as much and let me know what you think :)

She grips the handlebar on the dash tightly to steady herself, her lips curling downward into a frown as her stomach tosses and turns. They swerve in and out of traffic at a pace she’s certain is faster than the speed limit, cars honking at them along the way. When they finally pull onto the ramp and off the highway, her stomach settles momentarily. Given how Cosima drives, she knows this peace is short-lived.

 

“How on Earth did you get your license? I can’t imagine an inspector ever passing you,” Delphine mutters, her grip on the bar still firm.

 

“Yeah. About that? Funny story.”

 

Cosima laughs to herself, as if the memory is still fresh in her mind. She turns down a quiet, house-lined side street as she reminisces with a dopey grin on her face.

 

“So, it turns out my that my inspector and Felix sorta had a thing.”

 

Delphine’s eyes widen at the thought of such a scandal.

 

“What? But Felix is younger than we are!” she exclaims.

 

Certainly such a thing wasn’t even legal.

 

“Exactly,” Cosima winks, her grin widening. “Needless to say, Felix helped a sister out and the roads have been an unsafe place ever since. Nothing a little blackmail can’t fix, huh?”

 

Delphine giggles at the thought. Two weeks have passed since Cosima’s party and she’s set to return to school on Monday, where she’ll hopefully be able to resume her life and find some sense of normalcy. In celebration, Cosima suggested a Friday night of “mayhem and mystery,” whatever that meant. As of now, it consisted of driving aimlessly around the city.

 

“Where are we going?” Delphine asks.

 

They turn down another residential street, Cosima just barely avoiding a cat darting out across the road with a swift swerve that has the French girl’s knuckles whiter than the hospital walls that have been burned into her memory.

 

“Where do you wanna go?” Cosima counters with an arched brow.

 

Delphine is silent for a moment, considering. She stares out the window, watching as children play on their front lawns while their parents keep a watchful eye. No one has asked her where she wants to go in a long time. She’s certain that Cosima would take her anywhere she demanded. They could drive all the way to Mexico if they wanted, make a clean and sudden break from everything they’ve known before. She thinks she might like that, but she also thinks she might not be able to handle it. Not yet, anyway.

 

“No place, really.”

 

“No place it is, then.”

 

They drive around in a comfortable silence for a little bit longer, Cosima turning down streets at random. Even though Cosima promised her a night of “mayhem and mystery,” she doesn’t mind this at all. She actually prefers it to any alternative that she can come up with. They end up circling back around to a street they’ve already turned down and she knows she said she didn’t want to go anywhere in particular, but she didn’t think Cosima would take her words so literally.

 

“We’re just going to drive around in circles?”

 

“I know. It’s completely crazy,” Cosima retorts, her tongue poking out from behind her teeth as she smiles. “But then, so are we, so it works out well, huh?”

 

“Cheeky,” Delphine grins.

 

They find themselves back on a main road at last and Cosima becomes slightly more aware of their surroundings, her eyes focusing a little more intently on the road in front of her so not to crash and kill them both. Delphine studies the brunette’s profile, a quiet spectator. She thinks she’s come to know Cosima’s face about as well as her own. She’s already noticed the way her tongue does that thing, how it pokes out from behind her teeth as she says something witty. She’s noticed the way Cosima crinkles her nose as she adjusts her glasses or the way her eyes sparkle when Delphine engages with her about anything science-related. Her eye makeup is sharp and consistent, always lining her inquisitive orbs that are full of a depth which Delphine hasn’t fully explored yet. She consistently finds herself wondering just how deep they go and what she’ll find when she gets to the bottom. Is there a bottom? Will she be able to hold her breath long enough to reach it? Would drowning in them really be such a bad thing?

 

“Cosima?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Her lower lip finds its home between her teeth, although her grip on the handle loosens. She stares down at her hands, tracing the clammy creases of her left palm with her right index finger, finding her heart line, head line, life line. 

 

“Do you think I am?” she asks meekly.

 

“Think what?”

 

“Crazy,” she replies, her brow furrowing. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

 

They reach an intersection with a red light, Cosima stopping. With her attention momentarily free, she finally turns to face Delphine, her eyes giving her a quick once over before she settles them back on the road in front of her.

 

“Do you?” she counters.

 

Delphine takes a deep breathe, thinking. Her eyes remained fixed on her palm, taking note of how the lines seem to break and bend in a way which she never quite noticed before. She thinks maybe these cracks are a result of her fading grip, that maybe she’d been holding onto what she’d been told was normalcy for so long that her skin began to morph and tear. But then, one’s physicality can’t simply shift so suddenly. Were they always there? 

 

_“Oui.”_

 

Cosima shrugs.

 

“Guess you must be, then.”

 

The light turns green and they’re off again. Delphine laughs at the simplicity of Cosima’s answer, shaking her head. She abandons her thorough inspection of her hands and leans her head against the window, staring outside.

 

“I don’t think it works that way,” she admits.

 

“Okay. Then maybe you aren’t.”

 

They drive for a little while longer until Cosima finally veers off the road and pulls into the parking lot of a Cold Stone Creamery with a sly grin on her face. Delphine doesn’t protest, even as Cosima dashes out of the vehicle, insisting that she has a “foolproof method” when it comes to ice cream. Delphine waits quietly in the Jeep for several minutes, words bubbling to the surface that she isn’t so sure she can keep down anymore. When Cosima comes back out again with two giant cups of ice cream in hand, she forgets them momentarily and allows herself to be happy, reaching across to open the door for Cosima.

 

“Here,” Cosima says, handing a cup to Delphine.

 

Delphine’s eyes go wide as she tries to process the monstrosity in her hands. There appears to be at least three different flavours that she can discern beneath the generous helping of chocolate syrup, sprinkles, peanuts, cookie crumbs and possibly more.

 

“ _Mon Dieu,”_ she exclaims.

  
“I know, right?” Cosima agrees. “I call it “the chimera.” All of the best wrapped up into one.”

 

“Yes, but are you certain all of these flavours go together?” Delphine questions.

 

“See for yourself.”

 

She dips the plastic spoon into the frozen delight, trying to get a little of every flavour onto her spoon, although it’s difficult with so many. She takes a bite and her eyes immediately drift shut, a small moan escaping her mouth.

 

“See?” Cosima beams. “I know what I’m doing.”

 

“You really do,” Delphine concurs, taking another messy bite of her ice cream.

 

“Ice cream makes everything better,” Cosima explains with a full mouth. “I mean, who cares whether or not you’re crazy when you’ve got _this_?”

 

Delphine tries her hardest to remain civil, taking modest bites while trying to avoid the inevitable stream of chocolate syrup from flowing down her arm. When she looks over to Cosima, she sees the brunette is having worse luck than she is, although Cosima doesn’t seem to mind. She giggles, watching as chocolate and cream descend down her chin as she leans forward, trying to keep as much of it off herself as possible.

 

“You’re making a mess,” Delphine laughs, reaching for some napkins.

 

She hands them to Cosima, but they stick to the shorter girl’s hands and tear as she tries to remove them. The entire scene reminds her of one of those cartoons she used to watch as a child, when the villain would ultimately end up tarred and feathered, only this time it’s ice cream instead of tar and napkins instead of feathers. Cosima waves her hands about, trying to free them of the mess, her own laughter growing.

 

“Here,” Delphine says, grabbing a few more. “Let me just...”

 

She reaches forward, bringing the napkin to Cosima’s chin. The brunette freezes as soon as Delphine makes contact, dabbing away at her mess. Her method is ineffective and they’re both hyperaware of her hand as she applies slightly more pressure, tracing the trail of ice cream and syrup down her neck, stopping right above her collarbone.

 

“T-Thanks,” Cosima mumbles, her voice cracking slightly.

 

She clears her throat and Delphine licks her lips before tugging on the lower one with her teeth again. She nods, withdrawing her hand and the sullied napkins, a blush upon her face. She tucks the napkins away into the cupholder and looks down into her own cup of ice cream, unsure of where she’d found such sudden boldness. 

 

They finish their ice cream in silence and Delphine’s leg is bouncing anxiously. She wonders if she’s made a mistake, if she’s made Cosima uncomfortable. They were having such a wonderful evening, too, and now the spectacled girl can barely look her in the eye. The blonde’s boldness is gone. She feels small and weak and all of her muddled thoughts from before return to her.

 

“I... I tried to kill myself.”

 

She has Cosima’s undivided attention again. The brunette turns her body to face her more fully, her eyes swimming as they watch the European slowly open and unfold herself before her eyes, _for_ her eyes.

 

“I guess you could say that I sort of had a breakdown,” Delphine adds.

 

She speaks slowly, each word deliberate. 

 

“I don’t even know how it happened or where it came from. One second, everything was fine and then... it just wasn’t.”

 

Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but she can’t think of a better way to explain herself. In one moment, the world was still the world, up was still up and down was still down. And then she blinked and everything was different. Such a phenomenon didn’t seem possible and yet now she knew that it was.

 

“I get that.”

 

“You do?” Delphine asks, cocking her head.

 

“Oh yeah,” Cosima nods, having found her smile again.

 

Despite the weight of her confession, Delphine finds herself smiling, too. Of course Cosima gets it. There’s always been an unspoken understanding there. Had Cosima endured the same trauma? Is that why she could look into her eyes and not see right through them like she did with most other people? Was that what was lurking in her depths? A trauma, a story that mirrored her own? Although, maybe Cosima’s story didn’t mirror her own. Maybe it simply complimented it, if that was possible.

 

“Is that what it was like for you?” she asks.

 

Cosima arches her back, stretching her spine.

  
“Pretty much.”

 

Delphine nods along in her own silent understanding.

 

“You don’t seem like you need Doctor Leekie very much,” she remarks.

 

“Maybe I’ve just been seeing him for so long that the therapy is working,” Cosima suggests with a wriggle of her eyebrows.

 

“I suppose. But if you don’t _really_ need him anymore, then why do you keep going?”

 

“Well, my parents want me to do it,” Cosima explains. “They’re worried about me.”

 

She thinks about her own parents, her overbearing mother and emotionally distant father. They were what sent her to Doctor Leekie in the first place and while she’d huffed and puffed and pouted all the way to his office, she was glad for it. She was _better_ for it. 

 

“It seems like parents worry about everything,” she muses.

 

“I always thought it was kinda lame, but I figured that if it gives them one less thing to worry about, what’s the harm? There are worse things to do than talk to some old dude about my life for an hour once a week.”

 

Delphine smiles.

 

“When you say it like that, it doesn’t seem so serious.”

 

“I don’t think it is. Not really.”

 

She starts the vehicle again and they’re off, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the road. It’s getting late, her mother is probably wondering where she is and even with this knowledge, she can’t pull her thoughts away from Cosima, from her words.

 

“That’s all therapy is,” Cosima continues, her driving a little more steady and less chaotic than before. “People think that it’s just for nut jobs, but I think that everybody just wants to be heard in some way, shape or form... by someone. But not all of us have people to talk to and even if we do, not all of us know how to talk.”

 

Cosima’s words ring true to her.

 

“You seem like you know how to talk,” she speaks.

 

Cosima hums, merging into another lane.

 

“Talking was never the issue for me,” she replies.

 

“So then, you needed someone to talk to?”

 

“Yeah. I guess.”

 

Delphine’s brow furrows again. She’d met Sarah and Felix and Alison and Tony. They were all so close, all so accepting of each other and their imperfections. How was it that Cosima found herself unable to talk to them? 

 

“But you’re so close to your friends. Could you not just talk to them?”

 

“Sometimes when you’re close to someone, it’s harder to talk about certain things with them,” Cosima explains. “People who you’ve known your whole life... they already see you in a certain way. It’s hard to share something that’ll totally shatter their perception of you.”

 

The perfect student. The respectful daughter. The humble friend. Quiet and complaisant, steady in her trajectory. She’s certain that if she asked any of her own friends or family to describe her, that’s the description they’d give. That was the Delphine they saw and for a while, that was the Delphine she was.

 

Until one day, she just _wasn’t_.

 

_“Oui._ I think so, too.”

 

They stop again, Cosima barely managing to parallel park without hitting the car in front of her. She turns the car off and unbuckles her seatbelt, Delphine doing the same. She leads Delphine into a large park, down a paved path leading to the playground. There are no children out at this hour, the only other souls around being a few dog walker and late night joggers passing through.

 

“It’s not hard for me to talk about things with you, Cosima,” Delphine says as they walk.

 

“That’s because I’m such amazing company,” Cosima retorts, deliberately bumping her body into the blonde’s.

 

Delphine stumbles forward a few steps, the brunette’s playful gesture unexpected. Cosima giggles and watches the European regain her footing, all the while sporting a mock-pout. When they finally reach the playground, Cosima drops herself into one of the old swings and Delphine does the same, taking the one to Cosima’s left.

 

“I think we’re pretty close now, but it isn’t hard for me to talk with you. Why do you think that is?”

 

“Because I didn’t know you before,” Cosima answers.

 

They both begin pushing off the ground, slowly building momentum as they swing back and forth. Somehow, she doesn’t buy Cosima’s theory. It isn’t their lack of pre-history that has awarded them such a strange connection, at least it doesn’t feel like that’s the primary reason.

 

“I don’t think that’s it,” Delphine says honestly.

 

She’s swinging higher now, pumping her legs faster. She glances over to Cosima and sees that the shorter girl is having a bit more trouble reaching her height with her legs being shorter than her own.

 

“Well, it’s definitely a part,” Cosima counters. “I like to think the universe already has all these things sorted out.”

 

“Like, everything happens for a reason?”

 

“Yeah. Exactly,” Cosima verifies. “Like, we met each other right when we needed to, not a second before or after.”

 

Delphine smiles and halts her leg movement. She eventually slows down, allowing her feet to drag in the sand below her until she comes to a complete stop. Cosima is still swinging, although not particularly high or fast, residing more in a state of hovering than anything else.

 

“I feel like that, too,” Delphine agrees.

 

She slips out of her own swing and positions herself behind Cosima. When the shorter girl drifts back towards her, she gives her a gentle push on the back to propel her forward.

 

“See? It’s the universe. It has its own plan. We all fit into it somehow, I think.”

 

She continues to push, watching Cosima rise up and up, a gleeful expression upon her face. They carry on this way for a few more minutes until Cosima instructs her to help her stop. As she swings back, Delphine captures the brunette in her arms, wrapping them around the smaller girl from behind in an attempt to steady her and cease all motion. She slides forward, her feet dragging through the sand as gravity beckons Cosima forward. They both laugh as Cosima finally stops. Delphine releases her hold on the brunette but maintains her proximity, Cosima’s back flush against her front. She grips the chains of the swing right above Cosima’s own hands.

 

“How do you fit into it?” she asks softly, jutting her head forward so that it’s right next to Cosima’s ear.

 

Cosima turns toward her and their faces are mere inches apart. Her eyes dance all across Delphine’s face, from her eyes to her nose to her lips, then back to her eyes. Delphine’s do the same, although they linger a little longer on Cosima’s lips before meeting the cheeky girl’s gaze again. There’s something intense in Cosima’s eyes, something dark and almost prophetic; a tease, a taste of what’s to come.

 

“I’m not sure yet, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” Cosima says.

 

She wonders if Cosima can sense her thoughts.

 

“Soon?”

 

Cosima hops off her swing.

 

“Well, now that I know _you_ , I have someone to tackle all of these serious questions with,” she continues, sauntering over to the jungle gym. “I’m sure we’ll deconstruct the meaning of life pretty quickly... right after we find a solution to world hunger and cure cancer.”

 

Delphine follows her, spellbound, scaling the structure like a conqueror. Cosima climbs to the absolute top, reclining on the plastic, rounded roof. Delphine is hesitant, knowing how easy it would be to slide off and fall all the way to the bottom. She’s certain one of them will end up with a broken limb or worse, but Cosima beckons her onward with her smiles and her teasing and she swallows her doubt, carefully making the final ascent until she’s sitting next to Cosima. She slowly lowers herself until she’s flat on her back, as well, the two of them staring up at the sky. She glances over the side and realizes that they really aren’t _that_ high up after all.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

She isn’t sure if she’s said the words out loud, but then Cosima turns towards her, propping herself up on her elbow so that she can fully see Delphine.

 

“Of what?”

 

Delphine sighs.

 

Of falling. Of not falling. Of climbing back down this plastic mountain and returning to the world beneath them. Of being stuck. Of _everything_ , really.

 

“I know I said that I’m ready to go back to school, that I wanted to, but what if everything’s changed?” she decides to settle on.

 

“Everything probably has,” Cosima replies, solidifying her fears.

 

“That’s not very comforting,” she frowns.

 

Cosima shrugs, then rolls over onto her back again.

 

“Yeah, but you’ve also changed, Delphine.”

 

Her frown slowly dissolves.

 

“I guess that’s true.”

 

She _has_ changed. She can’t really explain why or how, but she knows that she has. She can finally say that with a great deal of certainty now. She’s changed. For so long, she thought that maybe it was the world around her that was changing, maybe it was her circumstances, but the more she looks around she realizes that things are just the same as ever, only she’s seeing them through a new pair of eyes and she isn’t entirely used to her adjusted vision.

 

“Who knows. Maybe you’ll find you fit a little better this time around,” Cosima offers.

 

“Fitting was never a problem for me. If anything, I think I fit too well,” she confesses.

 

“Snug as a bug in a rug, huh?”

 

Delphine nods.

 

“Too snug. I always felt like I was suffocating, like I couldn’t breathe. It’s a terrible feeling. It’s terrifying.”

 

Like the clothes she wore didn’t fit her anymore, like she didn’t fit her body or the overwhelming expectations everyone seemed to have for her, as well as the ones she had for herself. She’d allowed other people to carve out a space for her and she’d told herself that it was all she deserved, that it was enough, that it was what she’d wanted. She always made herself fit, never realizing until now that if she had to work so hard to make herself fit, to shrink herself down and stifle herself, then it must not have been natural. 

 

_“You’ll grow into it.”_

 

Always taught to grow in. Growing into her clothes, her lanky limbs, a new country, a new language. Growing into her role. She thinks that as people get older, they shouldn’t grow into things, they should grow out of them. Children grow out of their naiveté, of their childish preoccupations and immature habits. Children grow out of things so they can grow into something else. Isn’t that how it works? She finds her eyes welling with tears, her chest constricting. What if she still doesn’t fit? What if after all of this, she’s still an outsider? At least before she’d managed to conceal that fact which is painfully obvious to her now, but there’s no place left for her to hide.

 

“Hey. Look at me,” Cosima coos.

 

She looks up and Cosima’s leaning over her, her expression as serious as a heart attack. It isn’t just concern etched onto her features, but a sadness and a fear all of her own. Even still, she maintains Delphine’s gaze, not as reluctant as the blonde to expose herself.

 

“Deep breath in,” she instructs.

 

Delphine does as she’s told, inhaling a large, steadying breath.

 

“And out.”

 

She expels it. As soon as that last iota of air leaves her lungs, she finds her fear vanishing with it. She’s overcome by calmness and Cosima’s smiling down at her knowingly, all previous fear and sadness and concern long gone.

 

“See?”

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Standing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Thanks for the continued loved and support, guys. It means so much. Here's the next one :)

Her first day back at school begins about as well as she could have expected. She’s relieved to find that she hasn’t fallen terribly behind; all of her teachers are extremely accommodating and she wonders just how much they know, how much her mother has told them. While she’s usually the one called on to answer a question when the rest of the class falls silent, her teachers very consciously skip over her, offering her a sympathetic glance instead. She sits silently at her usual desk, unchanged in her absence and yet not quite the same, trying her hardest to ignore the hushed whispers and stolen glances her classmates take every time they think she isn’t paying attention. Even if she can’t hear exactly what it is they’re saying, she quickly adjusts to the feeling of their eyes on her back.

 

She makes it through the entire morning without anyone questioning her directly. She shuffles from Chemistry to English like Moses, parting the sea of students barring her path, their silently judging eyes stinging salty at the invisible lacerations that line her body. In the crowd she spots one of her closer friends, Andrea, and she opens her mouth to greet the shorter blonde, only nervousness forces it shut again. Andrea averts her eyes, ducking her head and passing by Delphine without a single word. When she takes her seat in Mrs. Clarke’s English class, she releases a heavy sigh and settles her head down on her desk, cushioned by her arms. On command, her classmates all open their copies of the Catcher in the Rye and begin to read from where they left off. She sits in silence, in unassuming defiance, her mind drifting far above the room. It isn’t until she feels her phone vibrating in the pocket of her jeans that her attention returns to her. She discreetly reaches into her pocket and retrieves her phone, smiling when she sees that it’s Cosima who’s sent her the text.

 

**How’s the first day back? :-)**

 

Her smile widens, typing her response without a shred of hesitation.

 

**It just got better. :)**

 

She looks up and over at Mrs. Clarke to make sure she hasn’t spotted her cell phone. The older woman is occupied with her lesson, scribbling down a few key words on the blackboard as her classmates take turns reading.

 

**That bad, huh?**

 

To be fair, things could have been much worse. Even still, she finds herself feeling out of place, especially with Andrea’s snub in the hallway. She imagined there would be plenty of questions but she didn’t think she would be flat out ignored. She thinks she would almost prefer it if they would speak to her directly; as much as the idea of confrontation terrifies her, their voices buzzing in the background, adding to her own intolerable noise, is far worse.

 

**Everybody’s talking,** she types.

 

They talk _about_ her, _behind_ her, just not _to_ her.

 

**People can be assholes. Don’t let it get to you.**

 

That much is true, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s like telling a person in the midst of an emergency to remain calm; it’s an easy concept to rationalize, but when disaster strikes and you find yourself in the middle of it, it’s much more difficult to apply that knowledge. People freeze up and go into shock all the time when they’re uncertain of how to deal with the events unfolding before them. She can tell herself that Cosima is right, that teenagers are a snotty and rude and gossiping bunch, but Cosima isn’t here right now and there are oh so many eyes, so many sets of lips that can’t contain their whispers.

 

**My friends won’t talk to me.**

 

Mrs. Clarke comes wandering down the aisle and she stealthily conceals her cell phone under her desk, summoning another despondent look on her face to deflect any suspicion. As soon as her teacher passes her by, she goes back to her phone.

 

**I’m talking to you.**

 

Her smile returns to her. There’s a familiar flutter in her stomach, but it isn’t of the anxious variety. No, it’s a flutter that only comes when it’s beckoned by the brunette and she can’t deny its call.

 

**Come and get me?**

 

She’s never skipped class before in her life but she can’t go on like this, consequences be damned. She tells herself that she just needs to see Cosima for a little while, that it’ll make her feel better and fill her with a newfound strength to try again tomorrow.

 

**Now?**

 

**Yes,** she replies instantly.

 

There’s a brief pause.

 

**No.**

 

Her smile turns into a frown, the fluttering in her stomach into a churning that weighs her down, filling her balloon-like hope with lead. Had she said something wrong? Was Cosima upset with her? Was she bothering the shorter girl? Cosima was in school, as well, but she didn’t strike Delphine as the type who’d have a problem playing hooky. Had she misinterpreted their friendship? Was she presuming too much? Perhaps Cosima was tired of sitting there, listening to her whine and make demands while she had her own life to live. She feels selfish and ungrateful. 

 

**I’ll come and get you when school’s done** , Cosima adds.

 

It’s as if she senses Delphine’s growing dread. The blonde is relieved momentarily, although she cannot mask her disappointment. Cosima may not be upset with her, but she’s still trapped in this place which is anything but inviting. She looks up, barely catching two boys twisting around in their chairs so they can stare back at her. They quickly avert their gaze and pretend like they aren’t watching, but they’ve already been seen and Delphine worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

**I don’t know if I can last that long,** she confesses.

 

She’s kept a straight face until now, but she still has two whole periods after lunch to get through. In a way, she’s dreading lunch even more than her classes. What is she supposed to do? Where is she supposed to go? Will her friends shut her out if she tries to sit at their table? Should she hide somewhere, or will that only make it worse?

 

**You can. I know you can.**

 

She doesn’t know what she’s done to warrant Cosima’s faith, but she absently shakes her head, as if the brunette can see her through her phone. Her lip quivers and she does her best to hold back her tears, staring out the window to her left. Her phone vibrates once more.

 

**Deep breaths.**

 

She smiles. It’s wide and glorious, so much so that a laugh comes ripping from her mouth and all eyes are on her once again. Mrs. Clarke looks slightly annoyed, but she dismisses her annoyance and returns to discussing Holden Caulfield. Delphine closes her eyes, taking the deepest breath she can manage. By the time she releases it, she already feels better. She’s transported back to that jungle gym and she can see Cosima’s eyes so clearly, feel her sincerity, and she decides to place her faith in Cosima.

 

When lunch comes, she tests her luck. She spots her usual group of friends-- Andrea, Michelle, and Pauline-- all sitting at a table. These are the three girls she’s become closest to since moving from France. She wouldn’t necessarily consider them her best friends (or maybe she would have at one point, before she met Cosima and discovered what a real friendship actually consists of), but they’re the ones who she spends most of her time with.

 

_“Bonjour,”_ she says meekly, standing over them.

 

They all look up.

 

“Oh. Hi, Delphine,” Michelle speaks. “You’re back.”

 

Delphine nods.

 

“May I sit?”

 

“Sure,” Michelle agrees.

 

Delphine finds a tiny smile and sits herself down next to Pauline, across from Andrea and Michelle. Andrea doesn’t avert her eyes this time or ignore her, but there’s an expression on her face that Delphine can’t quite describe. She seems uncomfortable, if that’s the proper word for it. The French girl wonders just how much she must have missed, how many rumors have been circulating.

 

“So,” Pauline finally says, nudging Delphine on the shoulder. “Where the hell have you been, girl?”

 

“Yeah. You sort of just, like, disappeared from the face of the Earth. We tried texting you and everything,” Michelle concurs.

 

“We’re not trying to be nosey or anything. It just happened really quickly. We thought maybe something bad had happened, you know? Nobody really knows what to think,” Pauline explains.

 

Delphine sighs, staring down at her tray of food. She understands their curiosity, but she still isn’t ready to discuss what’s happened. Compared to Cosima, she realizes that these girls are strangers. There’s no way they’d ever understand where she’s coming from.

 

“People have been whispering all morning,” Delphine mutters. “They think I can’t hear them.”

 

“Can you really blame them, though? I mean, people don’t just vanish like you did,” Andrea speaks up.

 

“I was in France.”

 

The lie is instantaneous. It comes out of her mouth before she really has time to process it, to feel the weight of it on her tongue. 

 

“You went back to France in the middle of the semester?” Andrea presses.

 

“My grandmother... she passed.”

 

It seemed like a perfectly believable scenario when she was playing it through in her head this morning. Any person with half a shred of compassion wouldn’t bother to question the death of a loved one. Pauline and Michelle nod hesitantly, but Andrea still seems unconvinced. Delphine’s knee begins to bounce beneath the table, her fists balling in her lap. She can’t afford to lose control right here, right now. Not if she ever wants to show her face again. She closes her eyes and remembers Cosima’s words, her gentle voice coaxing her to inhale and exhale. Her body slowly slackens but when she opens her eyes and returns to the rest of the group, the other three girls are staring at her with confused expressions.

 

“Are... you okay?” Michelle asks.

 

_“Oui,”_ Delphine nods. “I’m still just upset about it.”

 

The trio drop the topic, returning to their cafeteria lunches. They talk fairly easily, almost like Delphine isn’t there at all, barely acknowledging her presence. They talk about typical things; the boys they like this week, the tests they’re not prepared for, how ridiculous their parents are. As they speak, Delphine realizes how trivial their problems really are. Did she sound like that at one point? A part of her is envious, wishing she could go back to such a blissful state of ignorance where her problems were so simple, but then another part of her is strangely grateful. She’s lost a great deal these last few months. She’s lost things that she’ll never get back, but then she’s also gained quite a bit in return. Cosima was right. She’d changed. It wasn’t until that very moment that she truly saw how much.

 

Is that why they’re all staring?

 

Is that what they all see?

 

She notices a group of girls one table over watching her, staring and whispering to themselves while trying not to be obvious. Her friends follow her line of sight and once they see what’s captured the blonde’s attention, they all frown.

 

“What is it?” Delphine asks them.

 

The three girls exchange glances.

 

“Well... um... there’s sort of been a few rumors flying around,” Pauline explains. “People figured something crazy must have happened for you to just up and leave like that.”

 

“What kind of rumors?” Delphine presses.

 

She isn’t sure if she’s ready to know the truth, but she needs to hear it, nonetheless.

 

“First there was this rumor that you were pregnant and your parents sent you away,” Michelle reveals.

 

“What?” Delphine asks, baffled.

 

Of all of the possible rumors, that has to be the most bizarre one. Delphine is well aware of her “good girl” reputation, as is the rest of the school. She’s never even kissed a boy before, never been on a date. There had been a few opportunities, but she’d turned them all away. She wasn’t sure why, but none of them captured her attention. She always told herself that it was because she was so focused on her studies, but the more she thinks about Cosima, the more she realizes what a lie she’s been living. First, there was Rudy from her Biology class; he was smart and attractive, albeit a little intense and arrogant at times. His hands had been so rigid, though. They didn’t twirl like cyclones when he spoke. Mark was sweeter, more soft-spoken, more attuned to her personality; he’d asked her to the last school dance and she’d almost felt bad turning him down, but there was a hollowness behind his eyes. They didn’t sparkle in the light. 

 

“I know, right?” Andrea laughs. “We figured it would’ve had to have been an immaculate conception or something, cause there’s just no way. I mean, no offense or anything. You just... you never talk to boys. Ever.”

 

“I’m not pregnant,” Delphine reassures them.

 

“Hey. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Michelle says. “It’s pretty clear that you’re not. Everybody knows it, too. They just like to talk. It’ll blow over in a couple of days and they’ll find something else to talk about.”

 

Delphine nods.

 

“What else have people been saying?”

 

Pauline takes a sip of her Coke Zero, racking her brain for all of the mad stories that had been concocted in the European’s absence. She chuckles when she finally settles on one, setting her can of soda back down on the table.

 

“Well, there was the one about you being kidnapped and held for ransom. That was good,” she says. “Then there was the one where you found out you were royalty and ditched the rest of us mere peasants to go live in a castle somewhere in France.”

 

Delphine’s lips twitch into a smile. None of those sound particularly bad. She can tell by the look on Andrea’s face, however, that there is definitely more. Pauline and Michelle are handling her gently and she meets Andrea’s eyes, her expression becoming more serious.

 

“What else is there?”

 

Andrea shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She looks across to Pauline who subtly shakes her head, trying to warn her against whatever it is she’s about to say. Delphine pretends not to notice the gesture, her gaze fixed on Andrea across from her.

 

“There was... well... people were saying...”

 

She fumbles with her words and Delphine’s heart drops to the floor.

 

“They were saying that you tried to... you know... _off yourself.”_

 

The colour drains from the French girl’s face and her body begins to tremble. She feels sick to her stomach and she tries to recall Cosima’s voice, but her sweet coaxing is lost amongst the noise. The static in her head is blaring, a channel with no reception. 

 

“W-Why... why would you say that?” she stutters.

 

“Apparently Sam saw you at the hospital. She told a couple of people and things kind of... spiraled out of control,” Andrea elaborates. “But it’s just a rumor, right? I mean, it’s just a story? You were in France. You just told us.”

 

Delphine quickly rises from her seat. Her whole body is shaking so badly now and as she twirls around to take in her surroundings, she realizes that every pair of eyes in the room is on her. Their whispers strike her like a tidal wave and she gasps for air, feeling her lungs giving out.

 

“Delphine? Are you okay?” 

 

She can vaguely hear Pauline’s concern and she slams her eyes shut, trying to block out the world. 

 

“Come on, Del. It’s just stupid gossip.”

 

Her legs move independent of her body, racing her out of the cafeteria as quickly as they’ll carry her. She runs into another student and he mumbles something that’s lost to her ears, but she quickly rebounds and continues onwards in her pursuit of safety... wherever that is. She settles for the nearest girl’s washroom, pushing the doors open and locking herself in a stall. She falls to her knees and lurches over the porcelain bowl, emptying the contents of her stomach. She thinks she might hear another person in the washroom, as well, but she can’t be sure. It’s much too noisy to make out the sound of another person’s voice.

 

As soon as the last of the vomit has left her, she takes another deep breath. It isn’t as easy as before, the air catching in her lungs and rattling around like change in her pocket. She keeps her eyes closed and lifts her face towards the ceiling, the harsh florescent lighting beaming down on her, punishing her under its spotlight. She runs a hand through her hair and sniffles back the tears she was previously unaware of, reaching for her phone. Her first instinct is to call her mother, to tell her to come and pick her up immediately. She would do it, too, without a second thought. Not like Cosima. Cosima had left her there. She’d called and Cosima hadn’t come running like she’d expected her to, but her mother would. Her mother would lift her to her feet again, wipe her heartbreak from her face and usher her back to...

 

Delphine stops.

 

She opens her eyes again. The light above her is bright and blinding, but she blinks rapidly a few times and eventually adjusts. She slowly rises to her feet, unsteady on them. She grips the handicap bar on the side of the stall for support and she’s standing. Just barely, but she’s standing. She’s pulled herself to her feet and she’s standing on her own. 

 

She looks down at her phone.

 

**You can. I know you can.**

 

 

  * \+ + + + + + + + +



 

 

When Cosima pulls up in front of the school in that horrible Jeep of hers, Delphine rushes out to meet her, jumping into the vehicle without any preamble. Cosima opens her mouth to speak but Delphine promptly cuts her off, instructing her to drive. 

 

“No place,” she clarifies. 

 

Cosima’s smile drops from her face and she nods, pulling away from the curb. She doesn’t need to ask the blonde how her first day back was when the answer is so plainly evident on her pale face, so painfully present in her shaky voice. They drive in silence for many minutes, both too afraid to break it. Delphine takes steadying breaths as she stares out the window, working up the courage to speak first. Once she does, she explains everything to the brunette and Cosima’s light and airy tone shifts noticeably.

 

“I’m sorry that happened,” Cosima says, her voice low and hoarse. 

 

Delphine looks over and there’s a heaviness to the other girl that she hasn’t seen before. The air is thick between them as Cosima pulls over, stopping on a quieter side street so the two of them can talk in peace.

 

“I didn’t want--” she begins, struggling to find her words. “I would have come if I thought it was really that bad.”

 

The brunette had faith that Delphine could make it through the day without her. She just _had_ to believe, she _needed_ it to be true, for both their sakes. She had no doubt that the willowy blonde had reserves of strength that she was unaware of. Of course she’d wanted to help Delphine, but she’d thought in that moment that allowing her to sort out her own problems would be more helpful. She didn’t think that things would reach such a boiling point.

 

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

 

She looks over to Delphine, visibly shocked by the European’s claim. She had expected Delphine to be angry with her, to feel betrayed that she didn’t come running the second she called for help.Instead, Delphine offers her a sympathetic smile. The colour is returning to her face and her voice has lost its tremble.

 

“I realized something today,” Delphine speaks.

 

She thinks back to that bathroom stall, to the moment she realized that she needed to pick herself up off the floor. As much as a comfort as Cosima was, she couldn’t possibly rely on her all the time to talk her down in a parking lot or on top of a jungle gym, just like she knew she couldn’t rely on her mother to come and get her whenever things were difficult. 

 

“I could have called for help. I could have called my mother, my father, even Doctor Leekie. I’m certain they would have come. They would have helped me back onto my feet again,” she explains. “Except you. You didn’t come.”

 

Cosima inhales an uneven breath.

 

“Delphine, _I’m so sorry_ \--”

 

“You let me stand on my own,” Delphine cuts her off. “You trusted me to do it. You trusted that I was strong enough. I didn’t think that I was, I didn’t think that I _could,_ but you were right. I got up again, Cosima. I did it all on my own.”

 

The blonde is beaming now. Her legs are steadier than they’ve ever been, even sitting down. She’s certain of it now. She’d pulled herself to her feet and somehow found the strength to finish the day, to weather the stares and the whispers and the noise. She would be lying if she said they didn’t bother her, that she’d learned to tune them out right then and there in that stall, but at least now she knew she had the strength to endure them.

 

Cosima is staring at her, mystified, her eyes glossy with tears that had nearly spilled over. She eyes Delphine carefully, as if suddenly seeing her from a new angle. Delphine cocks her head, smile still in place.

 

She likes this new angle.

 

Delphine instinctively leans forward, pressing her lips to Cosima’s cheek. 

 

_You make me bold,_ she thinks.

 

She lingers for a moment before pulling away, retreating back into her own space. Cosima’s demeanor has shifted completely again and the shorter girl is staring down into her lap silently. It takes the French girl a few more seconds to fully realize what she has just done and she can’t hide her creeping blush, though she isn’t inclined to. 

 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. 

 

Cosima hums, nodding in acknowledgement while her eyes remain unable to meet Delphine’s. She’s chewing on her bottom lip now, too, and the blonde can’t ever remember seeing her demonstrate the habit before. 

 

Perhaps Cosima has taken on some of her, as well.

 

 


	9. Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Item number one: I now have a tumblr! I've been pestered to get one so, yeah. I have one now :P If you feel like chatting or if you have a prompt you wanna send my way, hit me up over there. As for the second thing, I've also created a playlist over on 8tracks for this fic. Music plays a huge part in my life (as I'm sure it does in most of yours), so I really wanted to combine the two and share them with you guys. The songs match certain scenes so if you like music and are interested to know where some of my inspiration comes from/what soundtrack I would make if I could, check it out. I'll update it every week with the accompanying music as I post new chapters: 
> 
>  
> 
> **https://8tracks.com/mveloc/train-under-water**

When Cosima doesn’t come prancing out after her appointment like she usually does every Tuesday, Delphine immediately knows that something is off. Despite her episode just the day before in the school cafeteria that had culminated in her locking herself in a bathroom stall before eventually pulling herself together, Delphine was feeling optimistic about her appointment with Doctor Leekie and even more so about seeing Cosima again. The brunette had driven her home after they’d shared a tender moment in her car, but the European hasn’t heard so much as a word from her since then. There was no “good morning” text, no checking in, nothing but silence. She didn’t read too much into it as she knew she would be seeing Cosima later that afternoon, but now that the clever young girl is nowhere to be seen, the worry comes flooding in like high tide.

 

“Delphine,” Doctor Leekie says, poking his head out of the door to his office. “Why don’t you come on in and have a seat?”

 

She makes no attempt to hide her frown as she slowly picks herself up from her chair and shuffles into his office. She flops into the leather seat with a huff, her body just barely present and her mind far away, missing with Cosima. Why had she not shown up for her appointment? Why had she not texted her at all?

 

“Delphine?”

  
The older man’s voice calls forth her attention again and she jerks, apologizing for her lack of focus and asking him to repeat himself.

 

“I said it looks like something’s bothering you,” he repeats himself. “Feel like sharing?”

 

She crosses and uncrosses her legs, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She remembers his shift in demeanor the last time they spoke of Cosima and she wonders if it’s wise to bring her up again. But then, Doctor Leekie always seems to have a way of seeing right through her and she thinks that lying is probably pointless, that he’ll drag the truth out of her anyway.

 

“Cosima isn’t here.”

 

“Cosima?” he repeats the name, clearly confused.

 

“She always comes out before. She didn’t today,” Delphine clarifies.

 

“Oh. Yes. That’s right,” he nods, as if suddenly cluing into the conversation. “She canceled her appointment.”

 

Delphine leans forward in her seat, fraught with worry. If something was wrong, if something had happened, Cosima would have told her, right? They shared everything with each other. But then again, the more the blonde really thinks about it, the more she realizes that it’s really _her_ who does the sharing. Cosima mostly listens, offers insight every now and then when there’s a window for it. It suddenly dawns on her how little she actually knows about the brunette, how every conversation they have is dominated by her own thoughts and feelings and problems. Very rarely does she actually catch a _true_ glimpse of what’s going on beyond those eyes she’s grown so fond of; there had been that night they spent driving around, as well as yesterday. She’d caught a glimpse of something more but even then, she was still uncertain of what that “more” entailed. She’d kissed her on the cheek and in that moment, everything seemed to have shifted. Had she done something wrong? Was this somehow her fault?

 

“Did she say why?” Delphine asks.

 

Doctor Leekie sighs, a look of weariness on his face.

 

“We’re here to talk about _you_ , Delphine.”

 

“I know that! It’s just that I haven’t heard from her since--”

 

She stops herself. 

 

“Since... what?” Doctor Leekie presses.

 

He senses her hesitation and she considers telling him the full truth. As she opens her mouth to speak, she realizes that she isn’t quite ready for that yet; whatever truth exists between her and Cosima, it’s _theirs_. She isn’t ready to share it just yet. There’s no way he’d understand.

 

“Since she picked me up from school yesterday.”

 

He nods in understanding.

 

“A day is hardly cause for concern,” he says, trying hard to reach her with rationality.

 

She sighs, burying her head in her hands. 

 

“Ever since I got my phone back from my parents, she’s texted me every day. She didn’t text me this morning, though. I figured that I’d see her today anyway so it didn’t seem like a big deal, but now she isn’t here and you’re telling me that she canceled her appointment and I think... I think it might be my fault,” she confesses.

 

Doctor Leekie perks up in his chair. Her feelings of guilt intrigue him, they signal of something deeper that he simply can’t ignore.

 

“Why would it be your fault?” he asks.

 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Maybe it was something I did.”

 

“And what do you think you did?”

 

Just what _did_ she do? She thought she knew, but now here she is, alone. Now she isn’t so sure what really transpired in that car. She had been so overcome by joy and gratitude that she’d acted on pure emotion; emotion that, for once, felt stable beneath her feet. She’d taken a running start and dove headfirst, but once again, Cosima’s depth eluded her.

 

“I think that maybe I... maybe I... overstepped?” she answers, grasping for the correct word.

 

“Overstepped how?”

 

“I really don’t know,” she mutters. “We’ve become very close. I tell her everything. I guess I just realized that... that maybe it isn’t the same for her. We’re always talking about me, we almost never talk about her. Does that make me a bad friend?”

 

He cocks his head.

 

“Do you think it does?”

 

“Just _stop_ ,” she sighs angrily.

 

“Stop what?”

 

“You keep turning my questions around on me!” she snaps. “I’m asking _you_ a question! I want to know what _you_ think, not just what you think _I_ think!”

 

The outburst is uncharacteristic, he hasn’t seen it in a while. Her nerves are raw and exposed and throbbing at the surface and while it would be so easy to poke, to press deeper and try to pull more from her, the doctor’s approach seems to soften. 

 

“You want to know if I think you’re a bad friend?” he repeats, clarifying the question.

 

“Yes!”

 

She needs him to be brutal if necessary. She needs to _know_. Is this all her fault? Has she pushed Cosima away? Have her own insecurities and selfishness ruined the best thing that’s happened to her? Is there any way to repair it?

 

“I honestly couldn’t say, Delphine,” he tells her. “I haven’t seen you and Cosima interact. I don’t have a basis for anything.”

 

She releases another sigh, anxiously tugging at the hem of her shirt. She doesn’t know if she finds his answer a relief or not. At least he can’t _confirm_ that she’s a bad friend, but then there’s a piece of her that wants to hear him say it, that craves validation so she can go on silently punishing herself for all the things she feels but can’t explain.

 

“I’ve told Cosima pretty much everything about my life. Things I haven’t even told _you_. She’s told me things, yes, she’s shared stories, but I can’t help but feel like they’re all... placating in some way,” she begins to reveal.

 

“You think she tells you only what you want to hear?” he asks.

 

“Yes. No,” she quickly flip-flops. “She’s honest with me. It’s not about her just telling me what I want to hear, it’s more like... it’s like she somehow knows what I _need_ to hear and she just says it.”

 

She thinks of all the ways Cosima has helped her and her heart throbs painfully because she realizes that she hasn’t been able to return the favor and she wants to. _So badly_. Does Cosima know this? Could she feel in that kiss, in such a simple display of gratitude? Was it enough?

 

“Cosima always knows what I need to hear... but me? I never know what to say. I don’t know what she wants from me, what she needs to hear me say,” she asks, eyes blurry with tears. “Do you think our friendship is one-sided?”

 

He offers her a sympathetic smile.

 

“I don’t think Cosima would spend so much time with you if she wasn’t getting _something_ out of your friendship.”

 

“I thought that, too,” she replies with a slow nod.

 

But then she’d gone and dumped such a heavy load on the brunette and now there’s nothing but dead, white noise. What kind of friend does that make her? Cosima undoubtedly has her own issues to sort through and she’s spent the entirety of their friendship adding to that pile. She’s certain of very few things in her life, but one thing she knows is that she never wanted to be a burden. _To anyone._ Especially not to _her._

 

“But now she’s not talking to me and maybe she thinks it isn’t worth it, that I’m too much trouble. Maybe she doesn’t want to listen to me complain anymore,” Delphine concludes. “I complain _all the time_! I’m afraid of _everything_ and I can’t stand it! I just I keep expecting her to... I don’t know... prop me up!”

 

Her fear and frustration have reared themselves again and she’s panting, frantic with how much she _can’t stand it._

 

“Just tell me it’s my fault!” she begs him. “I already know it is! _Just say it!_ ”

 

He waits in silence for her heaving to stop, for her eyes to dry again and for her to root herself. She eventually catches her breath and the fury slowly seeps from her pores. The blaring noises in her head-- like machine parts buzzing and humming and sheering and connecting and malfunctioning amongst a sea of tribal war-cries-- fade out amongst the sound of her beating heart. It takes precedence, echoing in her ears and there’s something strangely soothing in it. 

 

“I think you’re reading too much into this, Delphine.”

 

“How can you say that?” she asks, choking on the words.

 

“You say that Cosima never talks about herself?”

 

“Yes,” she replies with a nod, sniffling the last of her tears away. “I mean, we talk about a lot of things, but we don’t really talk about _her_ , about how _she’s_ doing.”

 

Doctor Leekie closes his eyes, expelling a discreet sigh. It’s _that_ look again, the one she saw when she first mentioned Cosima to him. She hadn’t been able to find the word for it at the time and she still doesn’t know it, but there’s definitely concern floating around in there. He’d stealthily changed the topic last time and she watches him with careful eyes, waiting for his response.

 

“I wouldn’t worry, Delphine. I really don’t think this is your fault,” he confesses.

 

“Why do you say that?” 

 

“Cosima’s missed appointments before. Other things do come up in life and it’s only been a day,” he tells her.

 

She nods, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. This is true, although truth means very little to someone who lives on the edge, constantly teetering back and forth as she does.

 

“Just... be patient with her.”

 

 

 

  * \+ + + + +



 

 

When she returns home from school on the Thursday, she immediately disappears into her room and closes the door behind her. She’d decided to take Leekie’s advice, to give Cosima the benefit of the doubt, but it’s been three days since she’s heard a single word from her and it can’t be a coincidence. She pulls her curtains shut and sinks into the comfort of her bed, phone in hand. She stares at the screen, at her increasingly one-sided text conversation with Cosima.

 

**Are you there?**

 

That was 7:23 yesterday evening. She’s lived and died and risen again a thousand times over since then, trapped in a vicious cycle with her only way out far from reach. She’d sent yet another message at 9:34 this morning.

 

**Did I make a mistake?**

 

It hadn’t felt like one. She’d been so sure in her words and her actions, so certain sitting next to Cosima in her ridiculous Jeep. When she’d leaned over and pressed her lips to her cheek, there wasn’t an ounce of anxiety in her body, no hint of danger. Cosima had been quiet and coy which was unusual for the brunette, but she didn’t seem upset. Her eyes were planted firmly on the road the entire drive to Delphine’s house and while she hadn’t said anything other than a few hums in agreement to whatever it was Delphine was saying, the blonde noticed the faintest smile on her flushed face.

 

Delphine brings her fingers to the touchscreen keyboard on her phone to type.

 

**I’m sorry.**

 

Her eyes sting salty and she dabs at the corners of them with her fingers to stop the tears from falling, taking a few shaky breaths. Three gentle knocks sound against her door and she already knows from their tentative nature that her mother is standing on the other side.

 

_“_ _Ça va,_ Delphine?” her mother asks, loud enough for her daughter to hear her through the barrier.

 

She knows if she calls out in response, her mother will be able to instantly detect the heartbreak in her voice so she opts for saying nothing, burying her head in her pillow and hoping that the woman will accept her silence and move on. She has no such luck. The door creaks open a moment later and her mother comes tiptoeing into her bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

 

_“Ma cherie,”_ she coos, reaching forward to stroke her daughter’s back.

  
Delphine jerks away from her grasp. This is the very last thing she needs. With her mother fawning over her she knows she won’t be able to hold back her tears and frustration and she doesn’t exactly feel like explaining the source of them.

 

“What’s his name?”

 

She turns over to face her mother, glancing skeptically at the older woman. Her mother stares back at her with an all-knowing smile.

 

_“Pardon?”_

 

“The boy,” her mother speaks. “What’s his name?”

 

She mulls the question carefully.

 

“There is no boy,” she huffs, rolling over onto her side, pulling a spare pillow into her arms to cuddle.

 

“You’ve been doing so well and now suddenly, you’re back in this bed. You keep checking your phone, too,” her mother says, gesturing towards the mobile device. “You’ve been checking it all week. Has he not called you?”

 

“There’s no boy,” she repeats, her words more firm this time.

 

Her mother laughs and the blonde’s frown only grows.

 

“I know these things, Delphine. I’m your mother.”

 

_“You don’t know that it’s a girl, not a boy,”_ she’s tempted to say.

 

Her eyes go wide with fear, a stark realization. Her mother may have confused the genders but not the emotions. She’s been waiting to hear from Cosima all week like a heartsick girl waiting for a letter from her lover gone to war. There is no boy. _There’s a girl._ Her heart beats wildly in her chest and her mouth goes dry. Thankfully her mother decides not to press the issue any further and leaves her alone once again, closing the door behind her. She can feel her heart pounding in her throat now and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t swallow the feeling. Now that she knows it’s there, she’s much too aware of it. She thinks her entire body is quivering and maybe it is, but maybe it’s also her vibrating phone. She glances at the screen again and finally sees Cosima’s name for the first time all week.

 

**Hey!**

 

She springs to life, shooting up in her bed and staring at the screen of her phone in bewilderment. She receives yet another text a second later.

 

**Sorry for going AWOL.**

 

There isn’t a singular word for the wave of emotions that come washing over her. Joy and relief, excitement and frustration. She’s smiling or she’s laughing or she’s crying, maybe all three or maybe none. The only thing she’s aware of is the phone in her hands and the swiftness with which her fingers type.

 

**Are you okay?**

 

As happy as she is to hear from Cosima, she’s unable to forget the last three days of static, unable to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach that’s telling her something is wrong.

 

**Better now :-)**

 

She can’t allow herself to accept Cosima’s reassurance. There are times when she recognizes that the noise ringing in the back of her head is a nuisance, a malevolent force meant to deter her. Then there are times where she’s certain in its conviction. This is one of those times.

 

**What’s going on?**

 

The knots in her stomach are beginning to knot and she finds herself standing again, pacing, unable to sit still. 

 

**Nothing.**

 

**You haven’t spoken to me in days. I was worried.**

 

Her lip trembles at Cosima’s elusiveness. This isn’t like her at all... or maybe it is and she hasn’t been paying attention. She recalls what she told Doctor Leekie, how she was afraid that she hasn’t been a good friend to Cosima; the cheeky girl was always more than willing to hear all about her problems and she filled all of their time together with the chaos in her head. She never knew what was really going on behind those cat-like frames. 

 

**Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Just dealing with some stuff.**

 

Does Cosima really expect her to accept such a vague answer?

 

**Stuff?**

 

Her body continues to quake and she wants to reach through the phone and shake the shorter girl and pull her in close all at the same time. 

 

**It’s a long story. I don’t really wanna get into it right now.**

 

There she is, diverting again.

 

**Would you like some company?**

 

She’s more determined than ever, more desperate for contact. She can’t go another day like this and she prays that Cosima understands this. Her response is delayed and she knows that the brunette is carefully considering her answer.

 

**Please** , Delphine texts. 

 

She stares at the screen of her phone like a picture of Loch Ness, expecting to see that mythical creature appear, only the creature in this instance is Cosima’s words of confirmation. There’s still a delay, still a hesitation on her end. She hasn’t made up her mind yet. Delphine takes a deep breath and closes her eyes and suddenly she’s in Cosima’s Jeep again, bold and open and right in her skin.

 

**I miss you.**

 

She steadies herself, prepares for the oncoming blow. 

 

**Okay.**

 

Her heart stops beating for a second and she can taste its redness on her tongue.

 

**I’ll swing by in a half hour?**

 

Her grin tears at her face so much that it stings.

 

**I’ll be waiting.**

 

She flies around her room, digging through her closet for something to wear. She can’t see Cosima dressed like _this_ , she needs to prepare and thirty minutes is hardly enough time. Her phone buzzes on her bed from where she’d tossed it in her excitement and she rushes over to read the latest text.

 

**Delphine?**

 

**Yes?** she replies instantly.

 

**I missed you, too.**

 

 

 

 


	10. Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Season three is here, baby! I meant to post this yesterday for premiere day, but I got swept up in the madness so here it is now. I hope you all enjoy it!

When she tells her mother that she’s going out, the older woman doesn’t ask any questions. She can tell by her daughter’s dramatically improved mood that wherever she’s going, she’s not in any danger. She tells Delphine to be safe anyway and to come home at a reasonable hour. Delphine agrees before racing out the front door, called forth by the sound of a honking horn from her driveway. Cosima waits for her. She opens the passenger door and climbs inside, offering the shorter girl a bright smile. Cosima smiles back, but the gesture is off. It’s not that it’s disingenuous, but there is something lurking beneath the surface, something held back by a cage of flashing white teeth that are meant to charm and placate. 

 

They drive on.

 

“What’s going on, Cosima?”

 

It’s impossible for her to hide the concern in her voice as she watches the brunette nervously fidget with one of her bracelets, her crossed legs bouncing at the knee like the butterflies in her stomach. She usually seems so sure in her skin, maneuvering herself through the world with all the grace and fluidity of a cat through a fence, but she’s stuttering and slipping and the blonde watches her profile with a furrowed brow.

 

“Not much,” Cosima replies, trying to shrug her off. “What about you? I guess I sorta shut you out these last few days. Why don’t you fill me in?”

 

Delphine frowns, pulling her eyes away and planting them in her lap. It would be easy for her to get angry or annoyed, but there’s a patience deep within her now, one that mirrors the same patience that the shorter girl has displayed in the past. Whether she’ll admit it or not, Cosima needs her now and she has no intention of turning her back on this quirky young girl, this force,especially now that she _knows_. These feelings have a name and they’re deep-seated, inescapable.

 

“I don’t want to talk about me. We always talk about me,” she protests.

 

Cosima glances over to see the blonde’s murky expression. She stops toying with her bracelet and plants her hands in the ground, her fingers digging into the grass. She’d brought Delphine to the same park they’d visited before, only this time they’d taken respite in an isolated patch of grass near a lion-headed fountain, away from the hustle of the other park dwellers where they could enjoy their privacy and the quickly dimming sky. She absently picks at a few dandelions, the seeds scattering in the wind.

 

“I like talking about you,” she says earnestly.

 

Delphine lifts her eyes again and she’s met by a crooked smile. It’s hard to refuse such a smile, but it’s also hard to ignore what’s going on beneath it.

 

“Yes, but I want to talk about _you_.”

 

Cosima sighs. She leans back, extending her hands behind her and using them to prop herself up. Delphine watches her closely with her bottom lip secured firmly between her teeth. She can see them-- the cracks beginning to form. Her gaze is insistent. With a little more pressure, with a little more yearning...

 

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” Cosima asks. “Fine then.”

 

She’s tempted to burst into a victory dance, but she suppresses her joy and sits up a little straighter, prepared to listen. Her ears are at Cosima’s disposal, her heart a willing participant. Cosima searches for the proper words, her lips a straight line across her face as she reaches out for them.

 

“Okay,” she begins, her voice wavering. “Umm... I... uh... I sorta have this... problem.”

 

Delphine cocks her head in curiosity.

 

“What kind of problem?”

 

If the words were hard before, they’re even harder now. Cosima’s back to fidgeting with her bracelet, the whooshing and clacking sound of the beads distracting as she tugs and snaps at the band. She’s chewing on her lower lip, just as she did before in the car and Delphine leans in a little closer, licking her lips in anticipation. She’s on the verge, they both can feel it.

 

“I think that... maybe there’s... there’s someone.”

 

It’s not what she’s expecting. She blinks a few times, trying to make sense of Cosima’s vague confession.

 

“You have a problem with someone?”

 

“No. They _are_ the problem,” she rephrases. “Or maybe they’re not. I don’t know. That’s part of it.”

 

Cosima frowns. It’s a terrible thing, but even still, she can’t stop focusing on those lips. She’s been thinking a great deal about them since her conversation with her mother. It would be so easy to wipe that frown away, to replace it with something better, but this isn’t about her or Cosima’s lips. She promised herself that she wouldn’t project her own feelings onto the brunette, that she wouldn’t impose. She redirects her focus to Cosima’s words, her conflict.

 

“I’m not sure I understand,” she replies.

 

“Yeah. I don’t know, either,” Cosima mumbles.

 

She lowers herself until she lay on her back, sighing deeply while staring up at the sky. It’s all so unlike the petite girl to be so broody and pensive. Delphine watches her with great fascination, unable to contain her smile. Her laughter follows next. She doesn’t mean for it, but she makes no attempt to stop it once it surfaces. It feels good to laugh like this. Cosima cocks a brow, shooting her a quizzical look.

 

“What? What’s so funny?” she asks.

 

Delphine lowers herself until she lay on her side facing Cosima, propped up on her elbow. She stares down at Cosima with a coy smile.

 

“It’s just... you’ve never been shy about anything before, at least not that I’ve seen,” she explains.

 

Whatever this problem is, whoever this person is, they’ve got Cosima in a state, tripping over herself the way the European often does for the brunette. Is that it? Does Cosima have feelings for someone? Is that what she’s trying to say? Delphine’s head goes light, wicked black spots tormenting her, bouncing all around her eyes. Her stomach drops. When did this happen? She’s been so self-involved that she hasn’t even noticed. 

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Cosima says, more for herself than for Delphine.

 

Delphine continues to stare down at the clever girl whose face is concealed in shadows. Cosima can’t bring herself to meet her eyes. She’s been so stupid, so clueless, and now there’s _someone._ Cosima never mentioned anyone before and she feels jealousy swell beneath her breast. It’s a strange sensation, one she can’t ever recall feeling before. She’d been jealous when Benjamin Allard had won the school science fair in the fifth grade (narrowly beating her out of the top spot), but this is different. It isn’t jealousy in the typical sense and she tries her best to will it down for both their sakes.

 

“I think that maybe I’m the wrong person to ask,” she says with a sandpaper tongue.

 

Cosima smiles then.

 

“No. You’re the right person.”

 

She reaches for Delphine’s hand, gently placing her own on top of it. Delphine’s eyes widen, she stares down at the point of contact and her heart beats double time. Does Cosima feel it, too? Can she hear her heart slamming so loudly in her ribcage, through the rungs of bone and tendrils of flesh? Or is this all in her head, just more noise amongst her shredding static? She _must_ feel it, because she’s staring up at Delphine with the strangest glimmer in her eyes and an enigmatic smile. This _has_ to be real.

 

“Am I really?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She lowers herself until she lay on her side, huddled up close to Cosima. She’s pretty sure her entire body is shaking but if it is, Cosima doesn’t seem to take note of it. She doesn’t shy away, either, doesn’t seem deterred by the blonde’s sudden closeness. Filled with boldness once again, she pushes a little further and rests her head in the crook of Cosima’s neck. Delphine sighs deeply and the brunette’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she maneuvers her arm so that she can slip it around the European, holding her as close as possible.

 

“You know,” Delphine begins, her warm breath hitting Cosima’s neck. “Sometimes I think you think too much of me.”

 

Cosima’s body rocks as she expels a soft chuckle.

 

“Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Stop it with the pity party. Everyone’s in love with you.”

 

Delphine closes her eyes, nuzzling Cosima’s neck. In this moment, she’s content, she’s safe, but even in her state of contentment, there’s a part of her that screams out and demands more. Cosima hasn’t pulled away from her yet, so is it really so selfish of her to yearn?

 

“Everyone?”

 

Cosima turns on her side to face the blonde. Their faces are so close together, the tips of their noses are nearly touching. Delphine’s eyes flutter as Cosima silently and graciously heeds her demands, that perfectly crooked smile on her face.

 

“Well, you’d have to be crazy not to be.”

 

A fuse blows somewhere inside, the synapses in her brain crackling and sparking. If she ever _did_ have control over her thoughts or words or actions, it’s long gone now. She shifts, propping herself up on her elbow to give herself a slight height advantage and she stares down, down, _down_.

 

“Are you?”

 

It’s unmistakeable.

 

Her eyes meet Cosima’s, only the brunette’s eyes are no longer the familiar shade of amber she’s been wading in for nearly two months. In fact, she thinks they’re no longer eyes at all, but giant black saucers that beckon her forward. But beyond all that blackness, amongst the weight of her heart and swimming emotions, she sees it. In that instant, it flashes bright for her eyes alone-- _the bottom_. She lay awake at night wondering just how deep those glossy orbs really descend and now she’s finally staring at the bottom. It’s impossibly beautiful and equally terrifying.

 

Maybe it’s instinct or maybe it’s the gravity of those two black stars sucking her in, but something pulls her towards the shorter girl and she makes no attempt to fight it. Cosima must feel the pull, as well, for she cranes her neck upward and their lips meet halfway with all the easiness of childhood, light and daring and a little bit clumsy. It takes them a moment to find the proper angle and Delphine lifts a shaky hand to cup Cosima’s cheek, more so to steady herself than to deepen the kiss. 

 

The noises in her head go completely silent.

 

A warm pair of lips, skin hot against her hand and the ceasing of breath are her entire world now. It’s a good world, a less complicated world, a world where she doesn’t feel afraid to share an elevator with a stranger or sit in a cafeteria with her peers; a world of red Jeeps and ice cream and tricky bees and misfit toys, of plushy green dinosaurs and weird pulsating music. When Cosima’s mouth opens just a little wider, Delphine can’t resist slipping a curious tongue inside. This is all so new to her, she isn’t sure if she’s supposed to do that, but Cosima makes this little noise and suddenly she doesn’t care so much about “supposed to,” that noise is the only one she wants spiraling around in her head from now on.

 

Cosima’s hand reaches up, threading through the blonde’s curls and cupping the back of her head. She pulls Delphine down and lowers herself simultaneously so that she’s flat on the grass again, Delphine hovering over her. Their lips part for a moment. Delphine stares down into Cosima’s closed eyes, waiting for hers to open. When they do, there’s something there that wasn’t before. Cosima smiles up at her and Delphine presses their lips together again, slowly easing into their new dance. Cosima’s nails scratch at her scalp and she pushes their mouths together a little more forcefully, eliciting a moan from the brunette. She immediately halts, pulling back.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Perhaps she is being too rough with Cosima. She hadn’t meant to get carried away, but it was so hard with such softness at her mouth, such heat directly beneath her. She hadn’t felt awkward or clumsy before, but now she’s self-conscious. She’s never kissed anyone before. Is she doing it wrong?

 

“I didn’t mean to--”

 

“Stop talking,” Cosima breathlessly replies, pulling Delphine in for another kiss. 

 

She grins into Cosima’s lips, her doubt quickly washed away. They continue on like this for an indeterminate amount of time, occasionally breaking their lips apart to just lay together and bask in each other’s presence. They steal kisses in the night under gentle moonlight, tracing cheekbones with fingers, counting eyelashes and committing them to memory. A cool breeze pulls them even closer together for warmth as dandelion seeds blow around them, carried away to someplace new and full of the promise of life.

 


	11. Holy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Sorry to make you guys wait an extra week for an update. Real life has been crazy busy and I've had almost zero time to write. I hope this chapter makes up for it :)

Cosima drives her home and soft, smiling lips find hers one last time before she reluctantly slinks out of the passenger door, unable and unwilling to shed her own grin. Her mother calls out to her as soon as she hears her walk through the front door, but she ignores the older woman and races straight to her bedroom. She never thought that something so simple as a kiss could so radically alter her world. She crawls into her bed, dragging her fingers over her lips, tracing them, as if she’ll discover some remnants of Cosima. That night, she falls asleep with quiet in her head and thunder in her heart.

 

She doesn’t see Cosima again until her appointment on Tuesday. The brunette has a couple of doctors appointments and an exam on Monday to cram for, so there’s no time for blossoming young love amongst adult responsibility. She’s able to swallow her disappointment, however, as Cosima spends the weekend texting her, constantly reassuring her. Her texts take on a distinctively more flirty tone that has the blonde’s heart rapping against her ribcage. She isn’t entirely sure how to respond to the attention, as she’s never been the object of such attentions before. Every text floods her cheeks with redness that she hides from her mother’s perceptive gaze and she spends her own weekend locked inside, avoiding the rest of the world. Pauline texts her, inviting her out to the movies with the others, but she politely declines, citing too much school work to catch up on as her excuse. She finds it funny how she was so desperate to return to her old life before, only to find herself running from it now. The only world she wants to be a part of is Cosima’s, and since she can’t have the quirky young girl’s presence, the only other option is hiding in her bedroom and replaying their kisses on repeat, living in that glorious memory until she can have the brunette to herself again.

 

Cosima steps out of Doctor Leekie’s office and she’s effervescent, shooting to her feet as soon as she catches a glimpse of the shorter girl. Cosima notices her right away, too. She smiles and winks, detouring to Denise to confirm her next appointment before she finally makes her way over to Delphine.

 

“Hey.”

 

She greets the European with a large, crooked grin and sparkling eyes. There’s an excitement within her that betrays her calm exterior, one that Delphine is able to easily detect. It didn’t used to be so easy for her. Cosima was always a giant question mark, but while the girl maintains some of her mystery, the blonde is no longer crippled by her doubt, wondering if she’s misinterpreting or saying the wrong thing. She’s seen Cosima’s intentions, tasted them, and she knows they aren’t just living in her head like so many other things. She’s tempted to lean forward and press herself against her, to capture her lips and erase all concept of space between them. With Cosima, she’s powerful. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to walk through Doctor Leekie’s door this time, if they could only meld themselves together. They could turn around and run, escape to someplace new.

 

She settles for a simple “hey,” instead.

 

There’s a slight pause between them. She can tell that Cosima is unsure of how to proceed, uncertain of their undefined boundaries. There are eyes all around them and the blonde isn’t exactly comfortable in making her newfound affection known. Cosima picks up on the hesitation in her eyes and she leans forward to whisper in her ear.

 

“I’ll wait for you after, okay?”

 

A shiver rolls down her spine.

 

“Okay,” she agrees.

 

Cosima breezes by, taking her strength with her. Doctor Leekie opens his door, inviting her inside and she retreats into herself. She knows she’s a poor liar and Doctor Leekie is particularly perceptive. How will she hide the news? He’s already staring at her with an arched eyebrow the second she takes a seat. She fidgets, toying with the gold chain around her neck, the tiny cross which dangles from it glistening in the light.

 

“Cosima was here today,” he tells her.

 

She nods slowly.

 

“You see? It wasn’t your fault after all,” he stresses. “She came around all on her own.”

 

Cosima clearly didn’t tell him the news during her own session. But then, why would she? Did Doctor Leekie really have a right to know? If Cosima could keep it a secret, then she should be able to, as well.

 

“Did you get a chance to speak with her?”

 

She frowns, digging the heel of her boot into the carpet. He watches her closely, taking note of her nerves. He says nothing, simply leans back in his chair and scratches his temple. Should she tell him? How much should she tell him? Does he already know? Can he sense it, smell it on her like a bloodhound? Cosima hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t Cosima told him? Had they done something wrong? That wasn’t possible. Was she ashamed? No, that wasn’t it. Was it something worth divulging? She thinks so. If her voice was loud enough, strong enough, she’d scream it to the world from the top of a mountain, though she fears it’ll get lost amongst the rest of the noise, rendered meaningless.

 

“Cosima kissed me. I kissed Cosima. We kissed.”

 

She fumbles, trying to properly explain their encounter. How does she even begin to explain it? Should she tell him everything that led up to it? There was definitely a buildup, even if she wasn’t able to see it for herself. But then, these feelings seemed to have come from nowhere; feelings she thought impossible, exploding from her chest all at once and decorating the world the second Cosima’s lips grazed against her own.

 

“I don’t know what it means,” she confesses. “I mean, I never considered bisexuality for myself, or homosexuality, for that matter. It’s not as if I’ve ever kissed a boy before. She’s all I really have to go on.”

 

She’s rambling now, but she needs to say _something_. She’s grasping at words, hoping to find the right ones, to explain the feelings that have suddenly taken root inside of her. Is that what this is? Is it about her sexuality? That answer seems much too simple, she can’t fully accept it. Whatever she has with Cosima has nothing to do with sexuality, she’s certain. There most definitely is a sexual component to it that she can’t deny; she’d felt a warmth burning in her lower abdomen as their make out session had slowly grown bolder and more heated, but this was about more than her teenage hormones. 

 

“It was nice. It felt... I don’t know. I don’t know how it felt, but it was different than anything else.”

 

Not noisy or jarring. She’d slipped into Cosima’s comfort with quiet ease, as if it were the most natural thing. That’s how she knows this isn’t just about her sexuality. Somehow, Cosima had silently permeated through her walls, taming the serpent tangles of the resident monster in her head with nothing more than an easy smile, combing away their anger and soothing their tormented hissing without being bit by stone.

 

“You haven’t said anything,” she comments.

 

He clears his throat and leans forward.

 

“Sexual identity is a serious thing, Delphine.”

 

Her frown becomes more pronounced. She isn’t certain if he means to come off as condescending, but he does.

 

“I know that,” she retorts.

 

“I’m just making sure,” he clarifies. “This is... a major step for you. A big life choice.”

 

She digs her nails into the leather armrests of her chair, unable to contain herself any longer. He speaks with such certainty when he has absolutely no concept of what’s going inside of her. Her nostrils flare, her knuckles burn white.

 

“There _wasn’t_ a choice. There _isn’t_ one,” she snaps. “I didn’t choose this. It just... it happened.”

 

The rest of her appointment passes slowly. She becomes antagonistic towards the doctor and she can tell that his patience is beginning to wear despite how well he hides this fact. He questions her progress and she scoffs at him, refusing to give his words any weight. He’s concerned about the nature of her relationship with Cosima, though he’s cryptic and careful not to voice this outright. She watches the clock with great reverence and the second it strikes six, she leaves without waiting for him to dismiss her, never bothering to look back to gauge his reaction. She tries her best to be kind with Denise when she confirms her appointment for next week and once her affairs are settled, she heads straight for the elevator in search of Cosima.

 

The brunette is waiting for her in the parking lot, the windows of her Jeep rolled down as music blares. Her eyes are closed and she’s reclining in the driver’s seat, unaware of the approaching blonde. When Delphine climbs into the passenger side, Cosima shoots up in alarm and Delphine quiets her panic with a harsh kiss, crushing their lips together. Perhaps it isn’t right for her to vent her frustrations this way, but the second she tastes Cosima, she feels all of her anger slowly lifted. She forgets about Doctor Leekie and his condescending words, sighing into her new lover’s mouth. She’s met with a... wince? She pulls back, confused, eyeing the shorter girl and trying to determine the source of her apparent pain.

 

She finally sees it.

 

A hoop through her nostril, a brand new nose ring that she must have knocked against with her own nose as their lips came together. It takes her a moment to get used to the new addition, but somehow, it suits Cosima.

 

“You like?” she asks, wriggling her eyebrows.

 

Delphine leans forward, catching Cosima’s chin to tilt her head to the side and inspect the piercing more closely.

 

“What did you do?” she asks.

 

“I got a piercing!” Cosima exclaims.

 

Delphine smiles, trying to contain her laughter at the brunette’s excitement.

 

“I can see that.”

 

She shouldn’t be surprised. Cosima is spontaneous and free-flowing, bold and at times, rebellious. Something like this is not out of character. Her own mother is strictly against piercings aside from the traditional ear-variety, but Cosima’s parents are much more open and liberal. 

 

“I got bored while I was waiting for you and I drive by this piercing place up the road every week, so I figured I’d drop in,” she explains. “I always wanted a nose ring.”

 

Her nostril is extremely red, clearly disturbed by the foreign piece of jewelry that has found itself a new home. Cosima wriggles her nose, still not used to the addition. Delphine wonders if a piercing is supposed to look like this. Should it really be so red? Perhaps it’s infected. 

 

“Your nose is really red,” she speaks.

 

“Obvs. I just had a needle jammed through it.”

 

She touches Cosima’s nose gently. The shorter girl winces yet again and pulls back from the French girl’s soft, curious touch.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Kinda,” Cosima shrugs.

 

Delphine smiles, leaning even closer. She places the softest possible kiss on the piercing, careful not to disturb the wound. The act elicits a giggle from Cosima. She shakes her head playfully and pulls away.

 

“That’s gross!”

 

Delphine leans in again, this time her lips landing on Cosima’s. The brunette’s mock disgust is easily shed and her eyes flutter before closing, easing into the pair of lips which softly tease against her own.

 

“And that?” Delphine asks upon parting.

 

“Definitely not gross,” she whispers, breathless.

 

“Good.”

 

They drive back to Cosima’s house where they’ll have more privacy. Her mother has been watching her intently since the revelation of her daughter’s “mystery crush.” She’s aware of Delphine’s friendship with Cosima, though she hasn’t been able to piece together the true nature of their relationship, at least not yet. Delphine wishes to avoid any awkwardness for as long as possible. She’s met Cosima’s parents in passing, but they’re much more respectful of boundaries than her own parents. When they arrive at the Niehaus residence, Cosima’s father expels a defeated sigh upon seeing his daughter’s innocent act of rebellion. Delphine tries not to laugh. They must be used to it by now. As easy as it is for her to be with Cosima, she recognizes that the shorter girl’s stubbornness, quick wit and penchant for adventure must make her a difficult person for most to deal with. He warns her that she’ll have to discuss her new piercing with her mother when she arrives home from work but other than that, allows his daughter all of her usual space. 

 

Cosima leads them upstairs to her bedroom and they fall into their usual banter. She rambles on about her Physics exam that she’s sure she aced while sprawled out on her bed, her fingers dancing with Delphine’s who lay pressed against her at her side. Delphine smiles and nods along, though she’s only half engaged in what Cosima is saying. Her thoughts remain elsewhere, still trapped in Doctor Leekie’s office, waiting for him to dismiss her. Cosima’s talking about metaphysical realms now and Delphine lifts herself from the bed to slowly wander around Cosima’s room as the shorter girl continues, her eyes following Delphine. She shouldn’t care what Doctor Leekie said, about his weariness surrounding her relationship with Cosima. For once, she’s certain in her feelings but even still, there’s something about that look in his eyes that doesn’t sit well with her, that has her a pacing bundle of raw and exposed nerves. She steals a glimpse of herself in Cosima’s mirror and frowns. Cosima must sense that something is wrong because she finally stops speaking and sits up in the bed, staring at the blonde expectantly.

 

“Doctor Leekie thinks I’m being reckless.”

 

“You? Reckless? Does he even know you?” Cosima laughs at the notion. “You won’t even walk into a frickin’ building unless you have an escape plan.”

 

Delphine smiles. Even in her teasing, Cosima is right. She’s never considered herself to be a reckless person at all. Quite the opposite, really. Reckless is Cosima, who gets a piercing on a whim. Almost all of Delphine’s actions are well thought out, methodical. On occasion, her anxiety swells and gets the better of her but for the most part, she remains an agent of logic. She’s always questioning, always second-guessing and mulling things over in her mind until she’s certain she’s constructed an entirely new and false reality for herself. Even now, she considers Doctor Leekie’s words, she obsesses over them, gives them entirely too much unwarranted attention and convinces herself that the shallowest of puddles is really the deepest of oceanic trenches. Sometimes she’s right, sometimes that nagging voice tugging at the back of her head is safe in its assumptions, so she isn’t all that surprised when she finds herself plunging into black water. The thing is, no matter how much time she spends in careful and obsessive consideration, no matter if the voice is right or wrong, she’s never quite prepared for the plunge and so she wonders why she bothers asking at all, why she wastes her time with questions when the answers always leave her more frightened and clueless than she was before.

 

“He thinks that... I’m jumping into this thing with you without knowing what I’m really getting myself into,” she explains.

 

"You told him about us."

 

It isn't a question. It's difficult for Delphine to gauge her. She thinks that maybe Cosima is angry, but her face does nothing to convey this. There had been a hint of disappointment in her voice, however. Her fingers trace the edge of Cosima’s wooden chest, lightly tapping on the unassuming surface. Cosima watches her from her bed with an unreadable expression, her lips a straight line and eyes following Delphine’s hand as it toys with the knob of the first drawer. 

 

“Don’t do that,” Delphine says, frowning.

 

“Do what?”

 

“You’ve gone silent now, too. Just like him,” Delphine mumbles.

 

She absently pulls at the knob, slightly opening the first drawer as she stares down at Cosima, her lip quivering. Cosima rises from her bed, walking over to her. She pushes the drawer closed and slips herself between Delphine and the piece of furniture.

 

“None of us know what we’re getting ourselves into, Delphine,” she says, her voice raw. “Isn’t that kinda the point?”

 

“I don’t know,” the blonde admits, a sigh escaping her lips. 

 

She flops down onto Cosima’s bed and runs a hand through her curly mane. Cosima continues to watch her closely. She deflates, leaning back against the chest, using its sturdiness to hold herself up.

 

“Look. If you think he’s right, then--”

 

“I _don’t_ think he’s right,” Delphine interrupts her.

 

Cosima blinks a few times. Delphine rises again, as if suddenly finding some new sense of purpose. She walks back over to Cosima and stops just in front of her, staring down into her eyes. She’s never really realized how much taller she is than the brunette; Cosima always just seemed so much _bigger_. There’s a smallness to her now, though. One the blonde isn’t accustomed to seeing. This time, she’s the one hanging on Delphine’s words.

 

“I _do_ know what I’m getting myself into, Cosima. I know with you.”

 

That’s why she’d been so angry with Doctor Leekie, why she’d dismissed him so completely; Cosima is steadiness and certainty, she is her only constant. He’d tried to rain doubt upon her, to make her question this very simple truth. He is a heretic let loose in her church and she couldn’t sit quietly as he tried to deface the house of the holy.

 

“Delphine...”

 

Cosima doesn’t seem to be able to finish her thought. She just stares up into a pair of hazel eyes with misty ones of her own. She wraps her arms around Delphine’s neck and pulls her into a tight embrace. Delphine holds her closely, sheltering her, holding such a delicate ball of light in her hands.

 

“Really?” Cosima murmurs into her neck, still mindful of her piercing.

 

_“Oui,”_ she agrees.

 

Cosima nods, pulling her body away slightly only to press her forehead to Delphine’s. Her smile is wide and genuine, more inviting than Doctor Leekie has ever been while standing in the doorway to his office.

 

“Good. Cause I play for keeps, Delphine.”

 

She brings a hand up to cup Delphine’s face, her thumb lightly stroking her cheek. Delphine closes her eyes and leans into the touch, seared by it, purged by it. There’s no room for doubt here, no room for anything but the two of them and all of their muted touches, their whispers of affection, and their promises-- the weight of which can never truly be felt-- that they both insist on carrying.

 

“Then keep me.”

 

 


	12. Barriers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** I know this update is a little later than usual, but I did update my other fics so I'm hoping you'll forgive me for it :) As always, your comments and support are greatly appreciated. Enjoy :)

As the curtain closes, the auditorium erupts into applause and she tries to maintain her laughter as Tony and Felix hoot and holler quite loudly, breaking the static sound of uniformed praise. She looks to her left and Cosima is giggling now, too, shaking her head in playful disapproval. With the performance concluded, the audience begins to flood out of the auditorium and into the main foyer and she does her best to keep Cosima in her field of vision as she follows the quirky young girl through the sea of people.

 

“So? What did you think?” Cosima asks, wriggling her eyebrows.

 

“It was... well...”

 

Before she can finish her train of thought, Tony is jumping on her back and she stumbles forward, nearly toppling over in her startled state. The young ruffian just laughs and grins like a fool, planting a sloppy kiss upon her cheek like it’s the most normal thing in the world. She barely knows Cosima’s friends and yet, she somehow finds herself fitting into this strange family.

 

“How did you enjoy the _the-a-ter?”_ he teases.

 

She’s never been too keen on the theater herself. Her mother once took her to see a performance of Salome when she was much younger and she remembers hating it, being completely uninterested. Of course, she was only a child and the opera dealt with quite adult themes that she hadn’t been able to engage with. When Cosima invited her to see Alison star in her theater company’s newest production, she could hardly say no. It was Cosima asking her, after all. She’d been nervous and uncertain of how to conduct herself around Cosima’s friends, but Tony and Felix had been more than welcoming. They’d sat front and center, watching Alison sing and dance with thundering enthusiasm.

 

“It was... nice,” Delphine settles on.

 

“Nice? Just nice?” Tony repeats.

 

“Don’t tell Alison that,” Felix quips. “She may just bite your head off, perfect hair and all.”

 

“Come on, guys. Leave her alone,” Cosima laughs.

 

The boys shrug, prancing off to wait for Alison to emerge from backstage. Delphine worries her bottom lip between her teeth and Cosima grins up at her.

 

“Thanks for coming,” she says.

 

She leans up onto her toes to kiss the taller blonde, but Delphine quickly moves her head away so that the kiss catches the corner of her lips instead. Cosima regards her with a quizzical look and Delphine frowns.

 

“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Just... not here.”

 

Cosima cocks her head.

 

“Okay?” she reluctantly agrees.

 

She doesn’t mean to hurt Cosima’s feelings, but they’re standing in public with hundreds of bodies surrounding them, hundreds of eyes potentially staring, potentially belonging to a familiar face. She knows there are other students at her school who are also a part of the same theater company, possibly in the audience or close by. What if they’re spotted? What would that mean for her already difficult school life?

 

She’d asked Cosima not to tell anybody about their relationship, not even her friends. The brunette didn’t understand. She isn’t ashamed of Cosima, not even close. She just isn’t sure if she is ready to have all eyes on them just yet. She isn’t even sure what they are, exactly. All she knows is how she feels and she doesn’t want to share it with anyone else. Why should she? This is _theirs._ What exists between them is _theirs_ , something that _they_ created. Why should anyone else have a right to it? When she’s with Cosima, she can be the person she always wanted to be, the person she always knew she was. It makes her feel powerful, being a part of something that is uniquely their own. When she’d made the mistake of telling Doctor Leekie, he’d tried to tear it down and taint it. She won’t give anyone else the opportunity.

 

“Are you down for the after party?” Cosima asks, slowly walking alongside Delphine as they try to catch up with Felix and Tony.

 

“After party?”

 

“Yeah. One of Alison’s theater buddies is hosting it,” Cosima explains. “She invited us. I’m driving.”

 

She can sense by Cosima’s tone that the shorter girl is trying to hide her disappointment at being rejected for a kiss and all she wants to do is pull her aside, somewhere where no one is watching and kiss the ill from her body. 

 

“I guess I’m coming, too,” she replies.

 

Cosima finds a faint smile again and as they look up ahead, they spot Felix and Tony teasing Alison, who is holding a bouquet of flowers. Alison waves at them and Tony immediately makes a point to call shotgun, racing towards Cosima’s Jeep with Felix and Alison in tow. 

 

The two girls remain unhurried.

 

As soon as they push through the doors and enter into the parking lot, Delphine quickly scans the area. Most people are busy getting into their cars and driving off. Tony, Felix and Alison are standing by Cosima’s Jeep, bickering with each other as they wait for Cosima to come and unlock it. No one seems to be paying any attention to them. In an act of rashness, she grabs Cosima’s arm and pulls her behind a large, cement column that shields them from all gazes. Cosima looks startled for a moment, but when Delphine presses her lips firmly to hers, she closes her eyes and melts into the gesture.

 

It’s a simple kiss, but it’s elating. When she finally releases Cosima from her grasp, the tiny brunette is grinning from ear-to-ear, her previous rejection so far in the past and forgotten. She squeezes Delphine’s hand.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

 

  * \+ + + + + + + + +



 

She wanders around the spacious and impeccably decorated living room in search of a friendly face. When they first arrived, they immediately ditched their three companions in search of some privacy. They had to settle for the laundry room in the basement, barricading the door with an ironing board and some laundry baskets. Safe inside, she latched onto Cosima like a dead man to his dying breath, drinking her, breathing her. They panted against each other in the dark as Cosima backed her up against the dryer and teased at her neck with gentle licks and nips. She mewed quietly in the musty room, much too aware of the heat between her legs and Cosima’s hips pressing against her own. A couple of weeks had passed since they shared their very first kiss and their lip locks were becoming more bold, more brazen and heated. It was almost becoming unbearable and yet, they never did break the barrier of clothing. She was almost too shy to touch Cosima, afraid that the smaller girl might disintegrate beneath her touch. Cosima seemed to be conscious of this fact, as well. She was mindful of Delphine in all ways, only touching when encouraged, never taking too much.

 

Their encounter had been cut short when Cosima’s cell phone began to vibrate violently in the pocket of her jeans, the sensation teasing the blonde. Cosima apologized and pulled the blasted device from its sheath, nearly barking into it. It had been Tony, calling to see where she was. Alison had made a drunken fool out of herself and they were in dire need of backup. Cosima had groaned as she pulled herself from Delphine and the two of them straightened themselves out before rejoining the party upstairs. As she walks through what she can only describe as a mansion and watches myriads of people laugh and dance and shout and play, she can’t help but feel out of place. She takes a seat on the sofa next to a couple engaged in what has to be the beginnings of intercourse. She folds her hands in her lap and scans the room nervously, wishing she was back in the laundry room with Cosima.

 

_“Sooo...”_

 

The voice belongs to Tony, who’s accompanied by Felix. He pushes the couple off the sofa and they fall to floor, seemingly unaware of their change in location as they continue to slip their hands under each other’s clothing. The hormonal pair is quickly forgotten as soon as Tony and Felix slot themselves into the space they previously occupied.

 

“Hello, Tony,” Delphine greets him with a smile.

 

She’s awash with relief and the gruff young boy slips an arm around her neck just as any good friend would do, offering her a wink and a cheeky smile. Felix is giddy and grinning, as well, and she wonders just how much alcohol the two have consumed.

 

“You see, Fee and I sorta have a bet going,” Tony proclaims.

 

“A bet?”

 

“Yes, darling. Just a harmless game, that’s all,” Felix adds. “We’re hoping you can help us out.”

 

“Oh,” she remarks, uncertain in their intentions.” What kind of bet?”

 

The two exchange glances, their smirks only widening.

 

“Well, you see, _I_ think there’s no way that a fine, polite lady such as yourself would ever give it up so easily,” Tony begins. “But my buddy, Felix, disagrees.”

 

Her brow furrows in confusion.

 

_“Pardon?”_

 

“We just wanna know how far you’ve gone,” Tony replies, gently squeezing her shoulder. “You know. With Cosima.”

 

“How far I’ve gone?” she repeats, still not following the conversation.

 

“She’s clueless,” Felix sighs.

 

“Are we talking second base? Third?” Tony presses.

 

“I... I... _what?”_

 

These are euphemisms that she doesn’t understand. She wonders if it’s a language barrier or if she’s just naive; even after living in North America for as long as she has, a lot of the slang still puzzles her at times.

 

“Don’t tell me you’ve run all the way home already?” Tony exclaims, nearly leaping from the sofa. “Damn! The puppy has some bite!”

 

“Oi! Enough of that, yeah?”

 

They turn to acknowledge Sarah, who’s finally made her appearance. Tony and Felix rise from the sofa laughing like a pack of wild hyenas, clearly amused by the way their conversation has gone down. Sarah seems unimpressed.

 

“Oh, come on. We’re just having a bit of fun,” Felix teases.

 

“Yeah! I’ve got ten bucks on this bet,” Tony adds.

 

“Quit being dicks. Go find someone else to harass,” Sarah barks.

 

The two boys giggle all the way out of the living room, grabbing a red solo cup right out of another guy’s hand before they disappear through the doorway. Sarah plops down into their seat on the sofa and Delphine offers her a grateful smile.

 

“Sorry about them. They don’t know when to stop,” Sarah tells her.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

She tucks her hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling naked under Sarah’s perceptive gaze. The brunette has a protective air about her, like a lioness protecting her pride. She wonders if Sarah sees her as a threat, if she’ll lash out and scare her off, or if she’ll slowly coax her in. It’s hard for her to tell with the punk.

 

“How’s everything going with you and Cos?” Sarah finally asks.

 

Delphine suddenly realizes what Sarah is implying, what Tony and Felix were implying with their “bet.” Her heart stops beating momentarily and her eyes widen in fear. Their secret is out. She feels an icy panic course through her veins.

 

“She didn’t say anything, if you’re wondering,” Sarah clarifies. “You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

 

Delphine nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her instinct is to panic, but before she allows the anxiety to take over, she looks over and notices that Sarah is smiling back at her. It isn’t very common for the Brit to smile at anyone and, oddly, it reminds her somewhat of Cosima’s own smile. It eases her nerves before they have a chance to seize control.

 

“Things are... well,” she replies.

 

There’s no use trying to hide it now, no use pretending. She realizes that she feels strangely safe with Sarah, with the others, as well. They’re Cosima’s family. That means they’re _her_ family now, too, right? Is that why Sarah is sitting here, talking to her?

 

“She looks pretty happy, yeah?” Sarah mumbles, as if her thoughts are in a far off place.

 

“I-I think so. I hope so,” Delphine nods.

 

Sarah nods. It’s as if she’s suddenly come to realize something, as if she’s made up her mind. Delphine stares in wonder, waiting for Sarah to speak. A coy smile slips across the wild girl’s features.

 

“I’m glad she’s found someone like you,” Sarah concludes.

 

“I’m glad _I’ve_ found someone like her,” Delphine responds immediately.

 

Sarah laughs.

 

She’s the lucky one, she’s sure of it. Cosima is light and life and a flowing gust of freedom. She’s merely a dead leaf in midst of autumn, crumpled and discoloured, gratefully riding Cosima’s breeze. 

 

Sarah’s expression becomes deadly serious very quickly and she opens her mouth, only no words come out. She searches for them, displaying a sense of carefulness and consideration that isn’t intrinsic to the punk.

 

“I know that... well...,” she begins, struggling with the words. “ _It_ can’t be easy.”

 

She’s struck by confusion again.

 

“What isn’t easy?”

 

Sarah looks over, her eyes narrowing. She nods, as if there’s a silent understanding between the two of them.

 

_“You know,”_ she says knowingly.

 

Delphine shakes her head, her brow furrowing.

 

“Know what?”

 

Sarah stares at her a moment longer, regarding her with care. The blonde feels incredibly scrutinized and she folds her arms over her chest in a bid for makeshift armor. She’s able to pinpoint the exact moment when shock flashes through Sarah’s eyes, the brunette finally discerning that Delphine is oblivious.

 

“Nothing,” she says quietly. “I’m gonna go find my brother before he terrorizes someone else. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

 

Before Delphine has a chance to ask any more questions, Sarah is up and gone. Her leg bounces anxiously as she mulls over Sarah’s words, over her tone, over the look in her eyes. What was that look? It was more than just shock. It looked like concern, maybe even... pity? No, that’s the wrong word. She isn’t sure what she saw, but she knows she’s seen it before, only it had been in Doctor Leekie’s eyes.

 

She stands, deciding to go and find Cosima once again. When she’d left her, Cosima was tending to Alison. She’d told Delphine to go enjoy the party while she took care of the mess and the blonde had hesitantly shuffled away, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. She spots Cosima on the back patio through the glass door, carefully dabbing Alison’s brow with a damp cloth. Sarah is there, as well, standing over the two of them with a scowl on her face. She appears to be snapping at Cosima, though Delphine can’t make out the words. By the time she makes her way over to the door leading out to the patio, Sarah and Cosima have spotted her and the conversation seems to have ended. Cosima smiles at her through the glass while Sarah turns away.

 

“Is... everything okay?” Delphine asks, looking back and forth between Sarah and Cosima.

 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Cosima tells her. “We’re just trying to figure out what to do with Alison here.”

 

At the sound of her name, Alison begins to mumble what she thinks is one of her lines from her play. The girl is clearly in a state of black out drunkenness, barely able to keep her eyes open and unable to stand. Cosima is supporting her from behind, trying to coax her back into the realm of consciousness.

 

Sarah scoffs, pushing by Delphine and stalking back into the house. The French girl watches her as she goes, confused. Once Sarah is out of sight, she turns back to Cosima.

 

“Sarah is upset,” she concludes.

  
“Forget about Sarah,” Cosima mumbles, trying to lift Alison to her feet. “Would you help me with her?”

 

Delphine nods, darting over to sling one of Alison’s arms over her neck. They slowly help the intoxicated girl to her feet and guide her back into the house to rejoin the rest of the party.

 

“Is she going to be okay?” Delphine asks, maneuvering through a group of people all congregated in the doorway to the living room.

 

“She’ll be fine. She just needs to sleep it off,” Cosima replies. “But I think I’d better take her home. I’m the only one fit to drive, anyway.”

 

“That’s questionable.”

 

Delphine helps Cosima bring Alison out to her car and they struggle to get the uptight brunette into the back seat. Cosima nearly topples over and busts her head on the pavement, but they eventually find success. Cosima slips into the driver’s seat while Delphine climbs into the other side. As they drive towards Alison’s house, the budding starlet continues to mumble nonsensical phrases in the back, spurring laughter from Cosima who tries her best to respond and keep up a conversation. Delphine’s head is elsewhere, though. Pressed against the window, she stares outside and dwells on Sarah’s words.

 

When they finally pull up to Alison’s house, it’s a little easier getting her out of Cosima’s Jeep. Delphine manages to somehow piggyback her all the way to the front door while Cosima fishes through Alison’s purse for her keys. They open the front door and slowly proceed inside, mindful of anyone who may be lurking. 

 

“Just leave her on the couch there,” Cosima whispers, pointing towards the piece of furniture.

 

Delphine nods, lowering Alison down. They say their quiet goodbyes and quickly leave before Alison’s parents come home and find their daughter inebriated. Cosima laughs all the way to the car, skipping and pleased with herself.

 

“Do you want me to drop you off at your place?” 

 

“I suppose. It’s getting late,” Delphine answers.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The entire drive, she considers asking Cosima about Sarah but every time she opens her mouth to speak, Cosima asks her “what?” with such a dopey, loving grin that she can’t bring herself to strip it away. They pull up into Delphine’s driveway and Cosima leans in to give her a kiss goodnight. Delphine is less receptive than she would have hoped.

 

“What? What is it?” Cosima asks her.

 

“Would you... do you want to... maybe come inside?”

 

Cosima pulls back, surprised and a little impressed.

 

“Inside?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“With you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“In your bedroom?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She looks around, as if she’s inspecting for any watchful eyes.

 

“Is that... okay?”

 

“My parents are probably asleep. If they’re not, I don’t think they’d have a problem with a friend sleeping over,” Delphine explains. “They’re worried that I don’t socialize enough as it is.”

 

Cosima grins.

 

“A “friend,” huh?”

 

Delphine leads her carefully up the stairs to her bedroom. There’s no sign of her parents yet and she knows they’re probably sleeping, but she doesn’t care enough to check. Once she has Cosima in her room, she shuts the door and inhales a shaky breath. Her room feel different than before. It _is_ different. The walls, a playful pink from her childhood, now seem more salmon coloured, more mature with Cosima standing within them. The lighting seems dimmer, not as harsh, but even still she races towards her bedside lamp and flicks it on, opting for its glow instead. She stands over her bed, looking down at it. It seems bigger.

 

“Would you...do you need something to sleep in?” she asks, walking over to her dresser.

 

“Oh. I usually just sleep naked,” Cosima remarks.

 

Delphine freezes with a hand in a drawer, a sudden flush overcoming her. 

 

Cosima.

 

Naked.

 

In her bed.

 

Cosima laughs quietly, nervously.

 

“Nevermind. Throw me something.”

 

Delphine nods, tossing an old t-shirt over to Cosima. She turns her back on the brunette as she begins to change into her own pajamas but she can’t help herself from stealing a quick peek from behind her shoulder. Cosima’s back is to her, but she’s topless. It’s a glorious back, tanned and smooth, all the notches in her spine perfectly in place. Cosima pulls the oversized t-shirt over her head and Delphine quickly looks away, pulling her own top and pajama pants on. When she turns back around to face Cosima, she’s wearing nothing but her underwear and that large, borrowed shirt which covers to her mid-thigh. Delphine gulps, walking back over to the bed. She pulls the covers down and slips inside, waiting for Cosima to do the same. Once they’re both under the covers, she flicks the lamp off.

 

They lay in silence for a few minutes, neither of them touching. She’s breathing heavy now, the air between them thick, and she can tell by Cosima’s heavy breathing that the girl is struggling with the proximity, as well. She lightly brushes her fingers across Cosima’s arm and hears a gasp. The sheets rustle as Cosima turns to face her and they stare into each other’s dilated pupils for a moment before Cosima inches even closer and closes the distance between them.

 

She sighs into her kisses, sinking back into the mattress as Cosima maneuvers herself on top of her. She strokes Delphine’s hair as she kisses her, her touch remains chaste. Her free hand seeks out Delphine’s, their fingers intwining as she deepens the kiss with a slip of her tongue and Delphine moans against her. It’s the blonde who breaks their stalemate first, her hand freeing itself from Cosima’s and curiously gliding lower. She makes contact with Cosima’s bare thigh and they both gasp loudly, burned. As she strokes the softness of Cosima’s thigh, the shorter girl moans into her ear.

 

“You feel so good,” Cosima whispers, her own handing finding the hem of Delphine’s sleep shirt.

 

She slips it underneath, her hand slowly trailing upwards. stroking her stomach, her ribs. Delphine is panting like a dog in the desert and when Cosima’s hand makes contact with her bare breast, she whimpers.

 

It’s too much.

 

She rips her hand away from Cosima’s thigh and grabs the brunette’s wrist, stopping her ministrations.

 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Cosima asks her.

 

“ _Oui_.”

 

She’s okay.

 

In fact, she’s so okay, she may just explode. She doesn’t know how to tell Cosima, how to say _you’re in me without even being in me_. Her eyes well up with tears and she bites her lower lip, trying to silence herself.

 

“Can we just... lay?”

 

Cosima smiles down at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Sure. Of course.”

 

She rolls off Delphine and pulls the blonde closer until her head is resting on her chest. She listens to Cosima’s shallow breaths, her pounding heartbeat, until they eventually sync up. They fall asleep hand-in-hand, their hearts beating in double-timed unison.

 

 

 


	13. First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Sorry to do it, but things can't be perfect 100% of the time, eh? Just don't snap at me about having to wait a week for a resolution, haha. Enjoy :)

She slips her thigh between Cosima’s legs and is instantly rewarded with a moan that quickly dies against her mouth. Her fingers dig into the brunette’s hips, holding her steady against the friction of her jean-clad thigh as Cosima bucks against her, desperate for even more. She grins into her lips, tracing the lower one with her tongue before slipping it back inside to greet her lover’s.

 

She’s gotten surprisingly bold when it comes to their make out sessions. By now, she knows Cosima’s rhythm better than she knows her own and can easily match it; where Cosima is push, she’s pull. Where Cosima is ebb, she is flow. They carry on like this in their game of seduction, waiting for the dam to eventually break and pour over. She presses the shorter girl into the couch cushions beneath them, her thigh grinding just a little harder against Cosima’s center as she tears her lips from the clever girl’s, panting heavily.

 

“Delphine,” Cosima groans, digging her nails into the taller girl’s shoulders.

 

Cosima has been patient with her. That night, in her bed, Cosima held her until they both drifted off to sleep. That morning, when they eventually wandered down the stairs and Delphine’s mother caught sight of them, Cosima had been patient as Delphine dismissed their relationship and told her mother that it was too late for Cosima to drive home, that she slept over instead. Cosima had been patient time and time again as she waited for Delphine after school each day, her Jeep parked all the way down the street and out of sight, as requested. Cosima has been patient and she wants so badly to reward her, has been working on it, but she’s uncertain if she’s there just yet. Perhaps she should just take the plunge. She reaches for the button of Cosima’s jeans with jittery hands and the brunette immediately stops her, grabbing Delphine’s wrists before they wander too far.

 

“Whoa, whoa. Hang on a sec,” she whispers, redirecting the blonde’s attention.

 

Delphine finds her eyes, confused. Cosima sits up, forcing Delphine to do the same. Had she misread Cosima’s desire? The petite brunette had been responsive, moaning and bucking against her. It was pretty obvious that she was into their encounter, so what was she missing?

 

“Don’t you want to...?”

 

Cosima backtracks, stuttering.

 

“No, no! I do! It’s just...”

 

She pauses, her brow furrowing as she searches for the right words. Delphine watches her as she coyly chews on her lower lip, waiting for Cosima’s response.

 

“What’s wrong, _ma cherie?”’_

 

Cosima finally meets her eyes again and there’s an uncertainty in them, a vulnerability. She shrugs, pretending that it’s nothing, but she can’t hide the waver in her voice.

 

“What are we doing, Delphine?”

 

The blonde doesn’t really understand the question.

 

“Well... what do you want to do?” she tries

 

“No, I mean-- what are we, exactly? I... I need to know.” 

 

It’s a strange question, one she-- once again-- doesn’t fully understand. She cocks her head in confusion, thinking hard about Cosima’s question. Cosima seems to sense her confusion because she immediately begins to elaborate.

 

“We spend, like, every day in this basement. It’s not that I’m not into it or anything, but like... we never go anywhere. You never wanna go anywhere with me anymore. It’s like you just wanna hide away or something.”

 

It’s true. They’d gone to Alison’s performance and then to the after party, but in the following weeks, they haven’t left the confines of Cosima’s basement. Cosima would pick her up every day and drive them to her house. They’d spend hours in this basement, kissing and caressing and laughing and just talking. 

 

“We go on drives,” Delphine offers.

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Cosima mumbles, shaking her head and looking away.

 

Cosima is upset. She won’t come out and say it, but the blonde can tell. She’s been moody lately and Delphine wonders if it’s something she’s done, but she can’t think of anything that would have the brunette going hot and cold so quickly, a fit of smiles and laughter one moment to silent, almost broody contemplation the next.

 

“You want to go somewhere?” Delphine asks her.

 

“Yeah. Like, an actual date. One where I can hold your hand,” Cosima says, becoming more impassioned as she speaks. “I’m not gonna, like, stick my tongue down your throat or anything and I’m not asking you to jump out of the closet kicking and screaming. I just... I wanna be with you.”

 

“You _are_ with me,” Delphine insists, reaching for her hand.

 

_All the time._

 

Cosima is the very first thought she has in her head upon waking and the last before drifting off each night; she’s with her when she thinks the noise will swallow her whole in its static; she’s that tiny lapse, that moment when her brain forgets to remind her lungs to breathe and the feeling of relief when she rediscovers oxygen; she’s the twitch that upturns her lips into a smile. 

 

Cosima sharply recoils, pulling her own hand out of Delphine’s reach. Delphine frowns as Cosima inches away from her, creating more distance between the two of them on the couch.

 

“You’re upset,” she observes, noticing the way Cosima slumps, how she folds in on herself

 

“Forget it.”

 

“Cosima--”

 

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

 

She sighs. How does she go about explaining this to Cosima? Explaining her feelings? She’s never really trusted them, they’ve always failed her before and words were no friend of hers, either. Still, she grasps.

 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Cosima.”

 

The brunette scoffs.

 

“Yeah. You were two seconds away from shoving your hand down my pants. You can do that, but God forbid we’re seen in public together.”

 

Delphine frowns. That’s not what this is about. Not at all. 

 

“Do you think... I’m not ashamed of you, if that’s what you think,” she tries again.

 

Cosima seems unimpressed with her response. Delphine reaches out again, this time forcibly grabbing Cosima’s hand and commanding her attention. Cosima meets her eyes again, seemingly ready to hear her out.

 

“This is _ours_. I don’t want anyone else to be a part of it. I don’t want to share it.”

 

“That’s not what I’m asking!” she argues, reclaiming her hand. “I get if you don’t wanna tell your parents or whatever, but why all the secrecy? What are we running from, Delphine? I thought we were past all this? I mean, hasn’t it been long enough? We can’t sit down here forever.”

 

Delphine shakes her head.

 

“It’s not that simple,” she sighs.

 

“It kinda is, actually,” Cosima retorts, her tone pointed.

 

Delphine feels her eyes beginning to swell with salt and sting with dejection. Cosima’s never taken a tone like this with her before, she’s uncertain of how to respond. 

 

“I... I thought you understood how hard this is for me,” she whispers, her lashes fluttering in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

 

“I do!” Cosima replies, expelling a frustrated sigh. “But you’re not the only one with problems, Delphine!”

 

“I know that!” 

 

Her rattled outburst startles the brunette and seems to reverberate off the walls of the basement. Cosima’s scowl vanishes, her lips spreading into a thin, straight line as she narrows her eyes in Delphine’s direction, considering her. Delphine meets her gaze with pleading eyes, trying to appeal to Cosima. She doesn’t want to fight. She wants to understand Cosima, but there’s so much the other girl just isn’t telling her. Most of the time, she does her best to push it from her thoughts; it’s easy when she can feel Cosima hot against her or when Cosima’s pulling laughter from the pit of her belly, but when she sees Cosima like _this_ , not truly at war with Delphine but with her own thoughts, it’s hard for her to ignore the fact that there’s so much she really doesn’t know about her.

 

 “Maybe... maybe if you told me about some of _yours_ , I could--”

 

“That’s not gonna work,” Cosima snaps, cutting her off before she can finish her train of thought.

 

“What’s not going to work?” 

 

“Diverting the conversation back to me.”

 

“Why not?” Delphine counters, folding her arms across your chest. “You seem to be so good at it.”

 

She’s usually not so sassy, but they’re both losing patience with each other. Cosima glares at her, shaking her head.

 

“You know what? I’m really tired,” she announces, lifting herself from the couch. “I’m gonna take a nap, so you should probably just go.”

 

She starts heading for the stairs and Delphine jumps up, desperate.

 

“Don’t do this, Cosima. Please.”

 

“Yeah. I’m _not_ doing this,” Cosima insists, whipping around to address her. “That’s kinda the point of me taking a nap.”

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” Delphine bursts. “I like being with you. I like it when it’s just us. Everything out there is... it’s noisy and _wrong_. I don’t want to be a part of that.”

 

It’s the best explanation she can find. Cosima’s features seem to soften momentarily and she sighs. It’s a heavy sigh, one that carries the weight of her entire world. Delphine is on the verge of tears, waiting for the brunette to say something. 

 

_Say you understand._

 

“You _are_ a part of it, though,” Cosima replies. “We both are.”

 

“No,” Delphine mutters, stubbornly refusing to accept this.

 

“Yes,” Cosima insists. “You have to face the truth sometime, Delphine.”

 

She turns and continues her ascent up the stairs and Delphine, all quivering lip and balled fists, goes flying after her like a fuse has been lit inside of her. Cosima’s already halfway up the second flight of stairs leading to her bedroom when Delphine calls out to her again, standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking up.

 

“It’s so easy for you to stand there and say that, isn’t it?”

 

Cosima stops. She doesn’t turn around to acknowledge Delphine or her words, but the blonde knows that she’s heard them, that they’ve made their impact. A second later, Cosima continues on her journey to her bedroom.

 

“I’ll see you later,” she mumbles. 

 

“Cosima, wait--”

 

“You should probably call your mom to come and get you or whatever.”

 

Delphine hears Cosima’s door close behind her and she sinks, lowering herself until she’s perched on the first step. There’s no sense in her following, in banging on Cosima’s door and begging her to let her in. She knows that it’ll only make things worse. Instead, she sobs quietly, clutching herself tightly, careful not to let Cosima hear her. It takes her several minutes before she’s able to calm herself down enough so that she can wipe away her runny mascara from her face and reach into her pocket for her cellphone.

 

It’s a gorgeous day outside, the sun slowly dipping below the horizon and painting the world in a hue of red and orange and glowing gold. The wind is still and mild. It doesn’t seem like such a horrible thing, but she doesn’t trust it. The wind can pick up at any given moment and clouds can gather so quickly without warning. Once again, she finds herself unable to hold back the tears as she sits outside on the porch step, futilely trying to brush them away. It’s going to take her mother at least another twenty minutes before she arrives. She’s never fought with Cosima like this before, she’s never been the object of Cosima’s anger. It’s a terrible feeling, one with a banshee-like scream that twists her gut. 

 

“Is everything okay, sweet pea?”

 

She looks up to find Cosima’s mother in her gardening attire slowly rounding the house, a pair of shears in hand. She approaches Delphine and takes a seat next to her on the porch step, placing the shears on the step behind them.

 

“Cosima is mad at me,” Delphine explains, deflated.

 

“Yeah. She’s been pretty moody lately,” the older woman remarks. “You’ll have to forgive her.”

 

So it isn’t just her. Cosima’s mother has noticed, as well. It makes her feel a little bit better, but in the end, this knowledge will do nothing to ease Cosima’s fluctuating state and she’s unsure of what to do with it. Should she confront Cosima about it later, once she’s had time to simmer down? Somehow she only thinks that will make the situation worse, that it will really put the shorter girl on the defensive.

 

“I do forgive her,” Delphine replies, her lip quivering. “It’s not her fault. It’s me.”

 

Cosima’s mother places a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

 

“Now why do you say that?”

 

She doesn’t know where to begin. It isn’t like Cosima’s request is so outlandish. She wants to go out together, to do things together like normal couples do-- like even platonic friends do-- not just sit inside. Cosima is all about life and exploration, about diving headfirst into whatever comes her way. It makes sense that she wants to be out in the world, but Delphine doesn’t possess that same gusto. She’s come a long way, she’s aware, but she’s still miles away from being comfortable surrounded by a whirring noise of chaos, even if she has Cosima to accompany her. It’s still difficult. She’s only just learned to stand, she’s by no means ready to break out into a sprint.

 

“When Cosima told you... when she... uh... came out?” she tries, stumbling to find the right words. “What was that like?”

 

It’s not that she’s necessarily afraid to “come out,” either. There’s only one thing she needs to “come out” of and that’s her own head, but she doesn’t know how to explain it, how to word it so the woman will understand. It isn’t about her being uncertain in her sexuality, it’s about her being uncertain in her own skin, in her place within this world that doesn’t really want her (or if it does, has never made her feel welcome).

 

“Well, she never really came out to us.”

 

“Really?”

 

Cosima’s mother chuckles.

 

“You’re the first person she’s ever brought home. You’re the first person she’s ever talked about. That’s how I know you’re special,” she explains with a smile. 

 

Delphine can’t help but smile herself.

 

“So.... you didn’t know before me?”

 

The older woman shrugs.

 

“Well, we sort of had an idea, but nothing needed to be said.”

 

Delphine’s eyes widen. 

 

“Why?” she blurts out.

 

As someone who’s constantly struggling for words, the woman’s words intrigue her; a concept that can be communicated and understood without a need for words. She feels this with Cosima, though she isn’t sure exactly what it is. Perhaps Cosima’s mother can explain it better.

 

“Because we love her,” she says, as if the answer is the most simple thing in the entire world. “When you love someone, you want them to be happy. You make Cosima happy. It’s very simple for us.”

 

That’s it. 

 

_She loves Cosima._

 

That’s what this feeling is, this feeling that lacks words, this feeling she wants to keep all to herself and shelter from the outside world. This is love, she realizes, in the purest and deepest sense. She’s not afraid of coming out or facing judgment, that’s not why she hides away in Cosima’s basement. She’s afraid of exposing it to the world-- a world which has not always been kind to her, a world full of noise that doesn’t care about her love.

 

“I’m not ashamed. _I’m not_ ,” she insists.

 

“I know that, sweet pea.”

 

Cosima’s mother slings an arm around her neck, pulling the young girl in closer. She suddenly knows where Cosima gets her warmth from, where that welcoming smile originates. She rests her head upon the woman’s shoulder and quietly sighs.

 

“It’s just... we’re happy together,” Delphine says. “Everything out there _isn’t_. I don’t--”

 

“Want to get sucked up in it.”

 

“Y-Yes!”

 

How is it that this woman seems to know exactly what she’s feeling? For all of her own mother’s perceptiveness, the woman seems to have no clue. Cosima’s mother isn’t presumptuous in her understanding, either. She doesn’t force it upon Delphine, doesn’t try to pull anything out of her. She sits patiently and listens.

 

“That’s how young love usually goes,” she sighs.

 

Young love.

 

Delphine looks up at her.

 

“Do you think?”

 

The woman chuckles, rubbing a smudge of dirt off her own face. She’s caked in it after a day of gardening, but Delphine can care less. She sits close to the woman and watches her intently, hanging on her every word.

 

“You spend all that time gazing into each other’s eyes, tangled up in each other, completely oblivious to the shit storm all around you... until one day, you look around and see how terrible it really is.”

 

Delphine nods. 

 

“It’ll pass.”

 

“What? Young love?” she asks innocently.

 

“No,” the woman laughs. “You never forget your first.”

 

Somehow, she knows it’s true. She can’t imagine herself ever forgetting Cosima. Even when they’re both fully-fledged adults, both studying in Germany (something which they’ve come to agree on), living together and completely invading each other’s personal space. Even now, with Cosima angry at her, she’ll never forget the feeling of pure elation she feels when Cosima looks at her with that crooked grin of hers, how loved she feels whenever they’re together.

 

“The fear will pass, though,” Cosima’s mother says. “Things can be pretty terrible, sweet pea. That’s just reality. But if you have someone to face it with, it’s a little easier. Things don’t have to be so bad.”

 

“I think... maybe you’re right.”

 

She pats Delphine’s knee before rising to her feet again with a huff, grabbing hergardening shears.

 

“I’ll talk to Cosima,” she says. “Just be patient with her. I know she can be a real brat at times. Trust me, I raised her.”

 

Delphine giggles. The older woman flashes her a wink before she disappears back behind the house into the backyard, presumably to continue with her gardening. Delphine perks up, already feeling a little better. Cosima is angry at her, but it’s okay. Cosima is allowed to be angry. She’s allowed to lock herself in her room. It’s fine because she loves her, because she knows that Cosima will come down soon. When she does, she’ll be waiting.

 

 

 

 


	14. Shell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** I feel like after last week's chapter/episode, I'm left with no choice but to remedy the angst. Enjoy :)

“You’re not angry with me, are you?” 

 

She holds the plush toy up, staring into its lifeless eyes. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting to find in those two black buttons which have been sewn into the creature’s head time and time again, worn after so many years of Cosima’s affection, but the tiny green dinosaur stares back at her with the same blank, open-mouthed expression as always. She sighs, patting Drax on the head-- just as she’s seen Cosima do many times-- before setting him back amongst her pillows. Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea, but she’s desperate now. Cosima’s been avoiding her calls for the better part of a week, so she had quietly slipped out of the house to find her way to Cosima’s. While Cosima herself was absent, luckily for the blonde, her mother was home and was more than happy to let her in.

 

“You can wait for her in her bedroom,” the older woman had instructed. “She should be home soon.”

 

So she trudged up the stairs into Cosima’s bedroom and plopped down on the brunette’s bed to wait for her. It feels strange to be in Cosima’s room without her present and she feels somewhat like a trespasser, like the first time she stealthily crept through the door to find herself distracted by Drax. Cosima didn’t seem to mind then and she hopes she won’t now, that her anger has had a chance to cool. The only way to know for sure is to wait for her to arrive.

 

The tickets burn a hole in the back pocket of her jeans. She hopes they will be enough to appease Cosima, that she’ll be able to recognize the gesture for what it is, but Cosima’s been so moody lately that she finds herself unable to predict her reaction and so she’s left a pile of nervous bones, jittering and bouncing as she awaits her love. 

 

Sure enough, Cosima arrives. She glides through the door with all of her usual wind and grace and freezes the second she notices Delphine. A look of surprise immediately flashes across her face, but after she takes a second to digest the scene before her, the surprise wears off and she wears a more stoic expression.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

 

She doesn’t sound angry or upset, merely confused. She removes her bag, allowing it to drop to the floor with a thunk as Delphine briskly rises from Cosima’s bed, offering the shorter girl a cautious smile.

 

“You wouldn’t answer any of my calls,” Delphine shrugs. “I figured this was the best way to get your attention.”

 

Cosima’s eyes narrow as she gives Delphine a once over and the blonde feels herself nearly break under the scrutiny, though the weight is immediately lifted the second she sees Cosima’s tiny smirk.

 

“A bold move, Cormier,” she admits with a nod.

 

Cosima moves by her, as if unaffected by the European’s presence and Delphine wonders if this is a good thing or a bad thing. She watches Cosima as she removes her shirt and fishes through her closet for a new top, all the while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

“Cosima?”

 

The brunette stops.

 

“I... I’m sorry about before.”

 

Cosima sighs. She finds herself a new top and pulls it down over her head before turning to face Delphine again and devote the entirety of her attention to the other girl. She frowns, shaking her head at Delphine’s apology.

 

“It’s fine,” she tells her. “You didn’t... I was wrong, Delphine.”

 

The confession startles her. If Cosima isn’t angry at her, then why has she been avoiding her? Sensing Delphine’s confusion, Cosima begins to elaborate.

 

“I was trying to push you into doing something you’re not ready to do. I was pissed, but now I realize... you can’t force these things, Delphine. You’ll be ready when you’re ready. I shouldn’t have been such a bitch about it.”

 

She can see the shame written plainly on Cosima’s face, the reason for her avoidance.

 

“You’re not a bitch,” Delphine tells her, stepping closer. “And I... I understand why you got angry. You’re right. It isn’t fair to make you hide away with me.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re not _making_ me do anything, Delphine. I _like_ being with you,” Cosima protests. “And I’ll take what I can get. Whatever you’re willing to give.”

 

Her words are meant to be reassuring, perhaps even sweet, but Delphine can’t help but find a sadness to them. She doesn’t want Cosima to just accept her shortcomings, she doesn’t want Cosima to settle. She wants to make Cosima happy, to make her burst with joy, not just keep her content. She wants to make Cosima feel the way the cheeky young brunette has made her feel, she wants Cosima to _understand_. She steps even closer, bringing her hand up to brush her knuckles against Cosima’s cheek. Cosima’s composure falters slightly, her lashes fluttering.

 

“You deserve so much more,” Delphine whispers.

 

She presses a kiss to the corner of Cosima’s mouth.

 

“I really don’t,” Cosima mumbles, laughing at a joke that Delphine isn’t able to understand.

 

Her lips then find Cosima’s fully, smothering her doubt with affection. She can’t stand to hear Cosima speak like this, for Cosima to think that she’s anything less than perfect. Cosima sighs into the kiss, her body melting as Delphine wraps her arms around her smaller form.

 

“You can tell me things, Cosima. You can tell me anything,” she says. “I won’t think any differently. My feelings won’t change.”

 

Cosima nods, swallowing hard.

 

“I know that,” she replies. “Just... _not now_.”

 

She brushes her nose against the blonde’s.

 

“Maybe later?” 

 

It isn’t exactly the answer she wants, but it’s one she understands all the same. _Maybe later_. There’s always a chance. Maybe later, things will be different. Maybe the world will be a different place, changed somehow. Maybe they’ll both be able to face it. Maybe Cosima will be able to talk then, when she finds herself in this new and different place. Maybe it will coax her to action, to speaking the words which fail her here. _Maybe then._ She finds herself lingering on “maybe” quite a lot these days, living in a world of possibilities. She _is_ so young, after all. They both are. 

 

They have a life full of “maybes” ahead of them.

 

“Okay,” she agrees, doing her best to muster a smile.

 

She reaches into her back pocket, retrieving the tiny slip and placing it into Cosima’s hand. Cosima smiles, staring at the piece of paper with a bemused look upon her face.

 

“What’s this?” she asks, inspecting it closely.

 

“Your ticket.”

 

“Ticket to what?” she giggles.

 

“The aquarium,” Delphine tells her. “I’m taking you out.”

 

Cosima looks up from the ticket, her brow furrowing under the weight of her emotions as she searches Delphine’s features.

 

“What?”

 

“A date,” Delphine explains, her smile spreading. “Let’s go.”

 

“Uh... right now?”

 

“Why not?” Delphine retorts with a shrug.

 

Cosima grows silent, lost in thought.

 

“I thought you weren’t ready?” she finally asks.

 

Delphine reaches for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

 

“I don’t know if I am... but at least we’ll be together.”

 

Cosima seems to light up all at once, from her eyes to her smile to her posture. It’s enough to make Delphine forget about herself momentarily, to forget how unforgiving life can be and simply breathe it in.

 

 

  * \+ + + + + + + + +



 

 

“Oh, _cool!”_

 

She laughs, watching Cosima race up to one of the tanks as she trails behind the enthusiastic girl, all flushed cheeks and lanky limbs. Cosima presses her face to the glass with all the wondrous innocence of a child, mesmerized by the creature frolicking in the water. 

 

“Look! It’s dancing,” Cosima laughs.

 

She points to the octopus who twirls its tentacles in a hypnotizing sway, one the brunette knows quite well. She may only be limited to two limbs, but Cosima possesses the same range and fluidity, the same unspoken grace and intelligence as the cephalopod before them.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Delphine muses, watching as the creature wades through the water, coming closer.

 

It suctions itself to the glass, one of its eight limbs coming to rest against the very spot where Cosima has her hand pressed. It seems to transmit some sort of electricity through the glass because Cosima jumps, delighted. She traces the length of the tentacle with her fingers, then slowly moves along the tank, beaming as the octopus follows her, as mesmerized by her energy as she is by its own.

 

_She’s beautiful._

 

The most beautiful creature in existence. Even the invertebrate seems to think so, drawn to her aura. She nearly blurts it out in that moment, those three words she’s been biting back since she first whispered them into her pillow that night after her fight with Cosima. She’s waiting for the right moment, the perfect moment, but she wonders if she’ll recognize it when it finally comes. Now seems as good a moment as any, but as she surveys the area, there are groups of people all around them, families and tourists enjoying the aquarium. She can’t bring herself to speak them, knowing that the moment isn’t truly theirs.

 

“You okay?”

 

Her attention snaps back to Cosima, who has finally pulled herself away from the tank. Delphine nods, offering the other girl a smile. Cosima grins back at her and reaches for her hand. Delphine accepts it without hesitating and allows Cosima to lead her through the aquarium at her own pace. They reach another tank, one with a group of people pressed up against it, snapping pictures and buzzing with conversation. They wait a few moments for the people to disperse so that they can gain an unobstructed view. It becomes clear what they’re looking at. It’s a nautilus, withdrawn into its shell to keep the voyeurs and intruders at bay, its hood shielding it from the rest of the world.

 

“You see its shell?” Cosima asks.

 

“Yes,” Delphine nods, unable to tear her eyes away.

 

“So, that spiral is the golden ratio,” she begins to elaborate, her index finger tracing the spiral in the air. “It’s a mathematical pattern that just repeats itself in nature, in flower petals and honey bees and, you know, the stars in the galaxy, and... and in every molecule of our DNA.”

 

As Cosima speaks, the creature’s hood slowly opens again. Delphine is the one to step closer to the glass this time, her eyes misty as she presses herself against it, watching each tentacle slowly creep out of its confines. The creature seems hesitant. There’s an uncertainty that speaks to her, a quiet understanding communicated through the glass as it eventually slinks out of its shell completely, exposed. She half expects it to shrivel up and die, but as she continues to watch in silent reverence while Cosima slots herself in next to her, rambling on about how the nautilus is one of the most resilient creatures to have ever existed-- a true survivor of both time and circumstance-- she finds just the opposite; it seems bigger, bolder. It’s a quiet strength, an unassuming one that doesn’t occupy as much space as some of the other creatures surrounding them, but it is a force, all the same. She turns to Cosima and the brunette must feel her eyes on her because she tears her own away from the nautilus to return her gaze.

 

_“Je t’aime.”_

 

Cosima’s eyes widen at the whispered words, her lower lip trembles. Delphine thinks back to one of their very first meetings in the waiting room of Doctor Leekie’s office, remembering their brief exchange of French. Cosima had claimed to only speak a couple of phrases and Delphine finds herself wondering if she truly understands the words she’s just said.

 

“I love--”

 

“I know what it means.”

 

She reaches for Delphine’s hand again, staring down thoughtfully at their point of connection.

 

“Remember back when I told youthat I barely spoke French and you teased me?” she asks.

 

Delphine nods.

 

“Well, I went home that night and learned a few more phrases,” she explains, her eyes swimming as they bore into Delphine’s. “ _Je t’aime_ was the very first one.”

 

The blonde is crying now, but not her usual tears. These ones are silent and they lack the salt, the uncertainty, the fear that she usually knows. Cosima steps closer, pressing her forehead to Delphine’s. The seriousness of her expression shifts, giving way to a flash of white.

 

“I wanted to be able to say it in a way you’d understand,” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly. “Because I do, Delphine. I knew it in that stupid waiting room with those horrible chairs and that dumb ficus.”

 

Cosima brings her hand to cup the blonde’s face, to soothe her tremors.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

 

  * \+ + + + + + + + +



 

 

She feels light, lighter than ever before as she lifts her hands above her head and feels the softness of cotton whisked over her and tossed to the ground. She feels as though she might float away, but Cosima keeps her tethered with soft lips against her clavicle, showering the newly exposed skin with kisses. Delphine sighs, sinking her fingers into Cosima’s soft, wavy tresses, cradling the smaller girl’s head to her chest.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Cosima mutters against her skin, and it’s enough to make her knees goes weak.

 

She lifts Cosima’s head back up to find her lips again. The kiss is different from all the ones they’ve shared before. There’s momentum behind it, a goal in mind as Cosima’s tongue sweeps over her own. She reaches for Cosima’s shirt this time and the shorter girl obliges, tearing her lips from Delphine’s momentarily to help tug it over her head and discard it. The brunette leads them over to her bed, taking a moment to turn on her side lamp and illuminate the room in a dim glow. She lowers the blonde onto the mattress and her soft hands trace the rungs of her ribs, skimming past her covered breasts. With shaky hands, Cosima reaches underneath the European for the clasp and Delphine sits up momentarily to allow her to remove it, only the garment doesn’t come off as swiftly as they both would like.

 

“Give me a pass, will you? I’ve never done this before,” Cosima says with nervous laughter.

 

“Me neither.”

 

“Good. We’re both equally as useless.”

 

With a nervous chuckle of her own, Delphine removes her bra herself, dropping it down by the side of the bed. Out of habit, she folds her arms over her chest to cover herself, although she can’t hide the flush of red. Cosima licks her lips, then reaches forward to grab Delphine’s wrists, gently coaxing her to relax them.

 

“Is this okay?” she whispers.

 

Despite her nervousness, Delphine nods and slowly lowers herself back down onto the bed, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. With a curious hand, Cosima cups a breast and the French girl gasps loudly, the sensation of a teasing thumb rubbing over her nipple sending her in a tailspin. Cosima grins, pleased with the response. She works up the courage to lean down, taking the rosy peak between her lips and sucking gently. She sighs Cosima’s name as she pulls the the girl’s head even closer, arching into the sensation. Cosima groans against her, taking more of her into her mouth. She swirls her tongue around the nub before turning her attention to its twin, leaving no part of the blonde unloved. Delphine can already feel the heat pooling between her thighs and she wonders how long she’ll last at this rate, if she’ll break before she even has a chance to touch Cosima herself.

 

“You feel so good,” Delphine whimpers.

 

She digs her nails into Cosima’s back, dragging them downward and eliciting a sharp gasp. She wonders if she’s gone too far, but Cosima’s hips buck against her own and she knows that, on the contrary, she’s yet to go far enough. Her hands find the clasp of Cosima’s bra. She has a little more finesse in removing it and suddenly, Cosima is flush against her, breast-to-breast, mouth-to-mouth. Her skin is on fire, seared by Cosima in all the places they connect, permanently branded. She buries her face in the crook of Cosima’s neck, peppering her with kisses as her hips rock up to meet Cosima’s again and they grind against each other just like all the times before, only this time, Cosima’s hand slowly inches down between them to tug at the button of Delphine’s jeans. Reality hits her like a Mack truck, stealing the air from her lungs. _This is happening._ She clamps her eyes shut and whimpers as soon as she feels the button freed. She clutches Cosima a little tighter.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Cosima asks, stroking her hair. “We can stop if it’s too much. It’s just... you know... I’d rather stop _now_ , cause I don’t know if I’ll have the willpower to--”

 

Delphine flips them so that she’s hovering over Cosima and while the shorter girl seems startled at first, she has no apparent qualms with the change in positions. She thinks maybe it’ll be easier this way, with her in control. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Cosima or that she doesn’t want to do this, but this is a whole new level of intimacy and exposure, one that will change her forever in ways that she can’t predict or prepare for. She stares down at Cosima, taking the opportunity to steal an eyeful of flesh she’s only now finding herself privy to. She’s never been particularly drawn to the nude female form in the few instances she’s been exposed to it (mostly in films she’s seen), but Cosima’s body is undeniably flawless, soft and curvy in all the right places, her breasts much larger than the blonde had imagined. She ravages them with kisses, drawing soft mewls of pleasure from Cosima’s throat before her lips descend lower, stopping above the waistband of Cosima’s pants. She has no idea what she’s doing, but she’s fueled by desire and curiosity and the throbbing in her heart that propels her forward and pulls her out like the nautilus from its shell. 

 

Her hands tug the button free and pull the zipper down. She looks up for confirmation and meets Cosima’s gaze, which bares such a perfect love for her. With all the reassurance she needs, she peels the pants from Cosima, who helps remove them with a final kick. She’s immediately drawn to the expanse of skin at her disposal, her lips finding Cosima’s hipbone, kissing and licking and nipping. It’s the most beautiful hipbone she’s ever seen, one she could happily spend the rest of her life worshipping. She doubts there’s another that even comes close to its angular beauty. 

 

“God, Delphine,” Cosima groans, squirming. “You’re driving me crazy.”

 

She bites down a little harder and Cosima grabs at Drax, bringing him to her face and using his softness to muffle the sound of her moan. Delphine sits up, shifting until she’s straddling Cosima, grinning down at the cheeky girl who stares up at her with a coy smile and flushed face. Delphine reaches, pulling Drax from her hands. She presses a kiss to his soft, plush nose before she sets him on the bedside table, making sure he’s facing away from the bed.

 

“Where’s my kiss?” Cosima teases.

 

She leans down, her lips meeting Cosima’s with a sense of urgency, her thigh slipping between Cosima’s legs. Even through the barrier of her jeans, she can feel the wetness that’s gathered, proof of Cosima’s desire for her, and she shivers in anticipation. Cosima is tugging at the waistband of her jeans now, urging her to shed the article and level the field. It means pulling herself from the brunette to awkwardly shimmy out of her denim confines, but as soon as she kicks them off, she feels a set of warm lips at the nape of her neck and warm arms wrap around her torso from behind. They stay like that for a short eternity, Delphine hunched forward while Cosima nuzzles the soft, freckled plains of her back.

 

“I really love you, you know that?” Cosima mumbles into an arched spine.

 

There’s a desperation to her voice, almost a hint of defeat, as if she’s finally come to realize just how deep the water is, how pointless all her kicking and splashing is. Delphine twists herself in Cosima’s arms and they sink, lower and lower until Cosima’s back presses against the mattress again with Delphine drawn over her. They pull the covers down so they can both crawl beneath them. Once they’re underneath, Delphine pulls them up again even higher until they’re completely enveloped, creating a makeshift tent to block out space and time. The diffused glow from Cosima’s lamp paints shadows on the quirky girl’s face through the fabric and she traces Cosima’s features with her thumb; her brow bone, the bridge of her nose, followed by a cheek bone and then a swipe of her lower lip. She wants it all, all in her hands, her mouth, her heart, stuffed into herself until there’s no more space to move or breathe or think or feel without Cosima already being there. Their kisses are soft as quiet hands reach and guide the last of their undergarments off, leaving them both completely bare.

 

_“Mon amour.”_

 

Her body is surprisingly steady, but all of that changes the first time she feels Cosima’s center pressed against her own. They both cry out, bodies quaking. It’s Cosima who moves first, slowly rolling her hips upward with labored breaths as Delphine slams her eyes shut and buries her face into the crook of Cosima’s neck yet again, muffling her whimpers with flesh. Her body moves on its own accord, following Cosima’s lead. They roll against each other like the tide of an ocean she’s never seen, like a Pacific breeze against sun-kissed skin. Cosima somehow manages to roll them again so that she’s on top, her eyes black and hazy. She stops her ministrations momentarily, waiting for Delphine to lift her lids and meet her gaze. Once she does, Cosima’s steady hand inches lower, finding the juncture of the blonde’s thighs. The second she feels a finger part her folds, she nearly shatters.

 

“Please,” she begs, her nails digging at any part of Cosima she can grab onto.

 

Cosima continues to tease, gliding her fingers through Delphine’s slickness a few more times, gathering wetness before finally finding her clit, softly stroking the bundle of nerves.

 

“Like this?” Cosima whispers.

 

Her eyes roll back and her mouth falls open as a wave of pure, kinetic energy rips through her. Her legs are quaking now and all she can think to do is nod, to give Cosima some sort of confirmation that whatever she’s doing-- _God, whatever she’s doing_ \-- is nothing short of necessary. The brunette seems to take the hint as her strokes become more hurried. She presses her thigh to the back of her hand, providing more pressure, more friction for the blonde and Delphine sinks her teeth into Cosima’s neck, drawing a long groan from her lips. 

 

Her senses are overwhelmed by Cosima; she can feel her searing every inch of her skin, see her behind every flutter of her lids, smell just how thick her arousal is and taste the saltiness of her exertion as it beads down her neck. It’s all over her, inside of her, _a part of her_. There’s no separating herself from it now, no coming back from this. She should be terrified, but she isn’t. She’s safe in this place that they’ve created, with this _thing_ they’ve created. Whatever this is, it keeps the static at bay, it quiets the world and dulls its sharp edges which have cut her into so many tiny pieces. 

 

She doesn’t have the mind to be embarrassed by how quickly she comes undone, only to pull Cosima’s mouth to hers as she erupts, as some magnetic force that surges through her brings all of her pieces crashing back together again and she finds a state of wholeness beneath Cosima’s touch. She’s crying now, she’s sure of it, and with each tear that’s expelled from her body, her heart grows a little lighter, her head grows a little clearer.

 

“Hey.”

 

The soft voice coaxes her back from her temporary state of escape. When she opens her eyes again, Cosima is smiling down at her. She brushes a few blonde strands from Delphine’s eyes, then kisses at the corners of them, wiping away the dampness. Delphine’s lips spread into a smile.

 

“Hi,” she meekly replies.

 

She doesn’t know what else to say. Neither does Cosima, she assumes, which is why she settled on such a trivial phrase. But then, maybe it means something more. The air between them is different now, the world around them is different. _They’re different._ Perhaps this is their way of reacquainting themselves, of recognizing this shift. As she looks up into Cosima’s eyes, she knows she sees it, too. 

 

She sees the change. 

 

She feels it. 

 

“Are you okay?” Cosima asks her.

 

Her entire life, she’s never been completely sure of how to answer that question. The honesty had always scared her far more than the lies did and so she usually did her best to muster a smile, or at the very least bite her lip as she nodded and made herself as agreeable as possible. Now, she’s filled with a thunderous certainty as she cranes her neck forward and brushes her lips against Cosima’s.

 

“I am.”

 

 

 


	15. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Sorry for missing an update last week! I've been pretty busy lately, hopefully you don't hate me too much and this next one makes up for it. Another **M** rating is in effect for the beginning of the chapter. As always, your comments and support really blows me away. Honestly. It's super overwhelming and I'm so so so grateful. Enjoy :)

There’s something atypical about Cosima in a state of sleep and yet, she finds the quiet calm somehow fitting. Cosima is rapid fire, from her flailing hands and steady lips to the axons and neurons that are constantly crackling behind the scenes, setting the rhythm that all else dances to. With her eyes and lips drawn closed, with her chest slowly rising and falling, Delphine is afforded a rare glimpse of the roaring ocean at low tide, of all the dips and cracks normally concealed beneath murky water. This is Cosima as she’s never seen her before. As she glances around the room, sunlight only just starting to filter through the blinds, she realizes that this is the world as she’s never seen it before. 

She presses a kiss to Cosima’s spine, feather-light and not enough to rouse wakefulness, but enough to cause the shorter girl to sigh blissfully in her sleep. She repeats the act, counting the notches in Cosima’s spine like the petals of a flower, seeking truth. A few more gentle caresses with her lips and Cosima finally lifts her lids, rejoining the blonde.

“Hey,” she says, smiling groggily as she twists her body to face Delphine. “Good morning.”

 _“Bonjour,”_ Delphine whispers.

She leans in, tenderly brushing her lips against Cosima’s in a chaste kiss. She lingers even when their lips part again, pressing their foreheads together and feeling Cosima’s warm breath against her own. She brings a finger to stroke Cosima’s cheek and the brunette sighs, her eyes fluttering as the remaining sleep is expelled from her body.

“God, you’re so perfect,” she says, her voice trapped somewhere between a laugh and a moan.

And just like that, she’s blushing like a fool again.

“Stop,” Delphine protests, though she’s unable to hide her bashful smile even as she buries her face in the crook of Cosima’s neck.

“Why?” Cosima giggles, wrapping her arms around the French girl.

“You’ll make me blush,” Delphine mutters, her voice muffled.

“You’re already blushing.”

They’re both laughing now. Cosima rolls them so that her body drapes over the blonde’s, so that her eyes can drink in all of the most perfect and minute details; the rosy red cheeks and slightly swollen lips, the hazel eyes that flicker and shift between colours-- as if they’ve yet to settle on a shade of their own-- and the mess of golden curls that have found a new level of volume, a new wildness post-coital.

“Last night was...,” Delphine begins, searching for the words that match her feelings. “I’ve never...”

Cosima silences her with a thumb that traces her lower lip, her own lips drawing back to reveal a row of white.

“Yeah. I know. Me neither,” she agrees.

Delphine smiles against Cosima’s curious digit, planting a kiss against the pad of her thumb and delighting when she elicits another tiny giggle. Feeling a little more daring and flirtatious, she draws Cosima’s thumb into her mouth, sucking gently. Cosima groans, her lashes flutter again. Delphine finds herself suddenly very aware of what that expression means. Her skin becomes hot and demands a more determined touch. 

“Are you happy?” she asks, looking up into Cosima’s eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t know,” Delphine shrugs. “I just... I want you to be happy.”

“Well, I am.”

Cosima stares down at her sweetly and Delphine draws her lower lip between her teeth, overcome by a sudden rush of adrenaline. It’s easy for her to surge forward and flip them, but Cosima’s certainly not expecting it. 

“What are you doing?” she laughs.

Her tone is playful. _Too playful._ The blonde is overcome by the desire to replace it with something a little more desperate and adult. She trails a line of kisses down Cosima’s neck, her hands wandering downward to gently pry the brunette’s legs apart. 

“I’ll make you happier,” she mutters, finding one of Cosima’s nipples with her lips.

Cosima gasps, her spine arches. She buries her hands in a crown of golden curls and tries not to burst apart beneath Delphine’s teasing lips, allowing Delphine to guide her legs open wider so the French girl can nestle her body between them. 

Cosima had been loving and perfect and gentle. She had coaxed Delphine to climax with such an ease that the blonde found herself slightly self-conscious, worried that she would not be able to return the favor. _I want you to feel like you make me feel,_ her eyes scream as she catches Cosima’s gaze again, her lips trailing lower and lower while Cosima’s breathing becomes more labored by the second. When she reaches that patch of soft curls, Cosima’s grip on her head becomes a little tighter.

“Hang on,” she tells the blonde. “You don’t have to--”

But she’s already slinking Cosima’s legs over her shoulders, inhaling the musky scent of her growing arousal. She may not know exactly what she’s doing, but Cosima seems to be enjoying herself so far. She never thought she’d find a woman’s sex so arousing, but there’s a delicateness, she finds. So delicate, she’s almost afraid to touch, afraid that even the faintest ghost of a touch will be too much, enough to break the smaller girl. She presses the softest, most tentative kiss to Cosima’s core and is rewarded with a wail and a sharp bucking of hips.

“Jesus Christ,” Cosima whimpers, her hands abandoning Delphine’s hair so they can cover her face instead.

Delphine grins, pleased to find the brunette still in one piece. She presses another kiss, and another, and Cosima’s knees are shaking on both sides of her head. Only then do her lips part, her tongue drawing a long, languid brushstroke through Cosima’s wetness. They both groan loudly, each finding their own pleasure in the act. Cosima is sweet, her taste is unique. It’s nothing how Delphine imagined it would be and she finds herself going back for seconds, thirds and fourths, determined to familiarize herself with the taste and feel.

“Don’t stop,” Cosima pants, her fingers grabbing fistfuls of sheets. 

She has absolutely no intention to, especially not when Cosima is shaking so badly, when she’s making those noises. She alternates between licking and sucking, between ghosting over Cosima’s desire with the very tip of her tongue and eagerly burying her face in it. She laps away everything Cosima is willing to give her and she finds that when she circles her clit with her tongue, the brunette goes wild. 

“There!” Cosima expels a sharp burst of wind from her lungs, one hand finding the back of Delphine’s head again and pulling her impossibly closer. _“Right there! Keep... keep doing that!”_

She isn’t even sure exactly what _that_ is, but it’s working, so she commits wholeheartedly. She glances up to see Cosima’s head thrown all the way back, her lips parted as moans and mewls escape them. Her body coils before releasing in a fit of starry incandescence, in harsh angles and soft spirals. It’s more than Delphine is expecting and she doesn’t know quite how to take it all in, so she waits patiently for Cosima to float back down to her.

“Oh, _wow.”_

Delphine smiles at the exclamation, sliding up Cosima’s body once again. The shorter girl is dewy and dazed, a crooked half-smile resting upon her face that only grows when she finds herself face-to-face with her lover again.

“You taste so good,” Delphine whispers, eyes dark and lids hooded.

“Yeah?”

She hums in agreement, her lips clashing with Cosima’s in a fervent kiss that tastes of the both of them. Two sets of hands caress and explore beneath the sheets, noting all dips and curves, all giggles and gasps. It’s much too easy for the girls to lose themselves in each other as the sun rises higher in the sky. So easy, in fact, that the only thing that manages to permeate through the thickness of their bubble is the sound of a gentle rapping at Cosima’s bedroom door, followed by Cosima’s mother’s voice.

“Cosima?”

They both freeze, immediately halting their exploration of each other. Panic flashes across Delphine’s face. Cosima’s mother is warm and open, but is she okay with the two of them doing _this_ under her roof? She knows for a fact that her own mother would not be so understanding. Cosima pulls away from her and the blonde pulls the covers up in a lazy attempt to hide.

“Cosima? I know you’re in there,” the older woman calls through the door. “I know Delphine’s in there, too. Don’t think you’re being slick.”

Busted.

“Uh... just a sec, mom!” Cosima stammers, nearly falling out of the bed as she desperately searches for clothing to cover herself. 

“Delphine’s mother is downstairs.”

Delphine feels her heart stop in her chest, but it’s not the same as when Cosima is the cause. This cessation is rooted in fear. Cosima shoots a worried glance back at her, tugging on her shirt from the night before and fishing a pair of pajama pants from her dresser.

“What?”

“She says Delphine didn’t come home last night,” the brunette’s mother answers.

Cosima races over to the door. She opens it just a crack, poking her head out to face her mother. The woman’s expression is settled somewhere between amused and concerned, as if she can’t decide whether to laugh at her daughter’s escapades or scold her for her lack of regard. Delphine is rolling out of Cosima’s bed now, as well, searching for her own clothes with a face devoid of colour.

“You two had better put some clothes on and come downstairs,” the woman says, her voice low.

Delphine tugs the garments on haphazardly, giving herself a quick once over in Cosima’s mirror. She does her best to tame her wild mess of hair and straighten the wrinkles out of her shirt, holding her breath the entire time. Cosima stares at her sympathetically, offering her a reassuring smile that the blonde tries to return, but her nerves are on high alert, her anxiety is swelling. They quietly make their way down the stairs, Cosima following closely behind, and as soon as Delphine reaches the bottom, she spies her mother sitting on the couch in Cosima’s living room.

 _“Maman,”_ she hesitantly greets.

Upon hearing her daughter’s voice, her mother turns to acknowledge her. She shoots up from her seat on the couch, barreling towards her daughter. She throws her arms around Delphine, squeezing her in a tight embrace as frantic words spill from her mouth.

“Where have you been, Delphine? I’ve been calling you all night! You just vanished!”

She’s somewhat caught off guard by her mother’s behaviour. She’s always been overbearing, but she expected more fury from the woman. Instead, she finds herself smothered in her mother’s desperate relief. 

“I was... um... I was with Cosima,” Delphine tries to explain.

Her mother parts slightly, releasing Delphine from her bear hug. She cups her daughter’s face in her hands, forcing the girl to meet her gaze, her eyes wide and cloudy with a mother’s worried tears.

“And you didn’t think to answer your phone?”

“My phone died,” Delphine lies. _“Je suis désolé.”_

She knows her mother is right, but she’d been so caught up in Cosima that she hadn’t thought to call her mother or even check her phone. Seeing her mother’s anxiety, she feels a terrible guilt rise in her chest. Cosima has maneuvered by them at this point and is standing at her own mother’s side. The two of them vanish into the kitchen for a moment to give Delphine and her mother some privacy.

“You can’t do this, Delphine! You can’t just vanish! I was sick to my stomach!” she whispers harshly, trying to be mindful of listening ears.

“I said I was sorry,” she mumbles, eyes fixed on her feet.

She doesn’t know what else to say, really. Her mother isn’t ready for the truth. _I didn’t check my phone or call you back because I was busy making love to Cosima._ Somehow, she doesn’t think her mother will be so understanding. The woman sighs heavily, trying to rein in her emotions.

“I’m glad you’ve made a new friend, Delphine, but you’re still a child. So long as you’re living in my house, you have to obey my rules. You need to tell me where you’re going and you need to check in so I know that you’re safe,” she tells her. “You can’t just leave whenever you feel like it. You know that since... since your... _accident_... well... we worry even more about you.”

“You’re right,” Delphine nods. “I’m sorry, _Maman._ It won’t happen again, I promise.”

When she meets her mother’s eyes again, the woman is staring at her, perplexed. It’s as though she has something on her face, only she checked herself in the mirror before coming downstairs so she know this can’t be the case.

“What?” she inquires.

“You look...”

Her mother finds a vagrant strand of her daughter’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. She continues to stare with a furrowed brow, eyes raking over Delphine. 

“Nothing,” she dismisses with a puff of breath, shaking her head.

Suddenly, Delphine is alerted to another presence. Cosima is creeping through the doorway, her usual bravado gone. She seems hesitant, uncertain in her actions. Delphine shoots her a curious glance, wondering what her intentions are.

“Uh... Mrs. Cormier?” Cosima speaks.

Delphine’s mother twirls around, finally taking notice of the girl herself. Cosima steps closer and the look on the older woman’s face mirrors the one on Delphine’s; curious, a little intrigued. 

“I’m sorry about all of this. It’s my fault. I... uh... I distracted Delphine,” Cosima apologizes, trying to shoulder some of the blame. “She was helping me with something and we lost track of time. We fell asleep.”

Delphine’s glance flashes back and forth between her mother and Cosima. She wonders if her mother will buy the excuse, if she’ll meet Cosima’s submissiveness with anger or disapproval. Instead, she expels yet another tired sigh.

“It’s okay, Cosima. I just worry about Delphine,” her mother replies, accepting Cosima’s apology. “It would put a worrying mother’s mind to rest if I knew what was going on.”

Cosima’s energy is back. She nearly jumps in place, her smile returning as she nods enthusiastically in agreement.

“You’re totally right. It won’t happen again,” she promises. “In fact, I’ll make sure that Delphine checks in every hour on the hour whenever we hang out.”

Delphine’s mother regards the brunette carefully, giving her the same bemused expression that she’d given her daughter just moments before. After a few seconds of staring, a faint smile crosses her features. She nods curtly, accepting Cosima’s proposition. Then, she turns to Delphine again.

“We should go, Delphine.”

Delphine’s own smile falters. She shouldn’t be upset considering how well everything went down; her mother seems to have forgiven her and she hasn’t shifted the blame to Cosima either. Even still, the thought of being torn away from Cosima now has her palms sweaty. Is it too much to hope for her mother leaving and the two of them retreating back upstairs to the safety of Cosima’s bedroom?

“Do I have to?” she asks. “I... I want to stay with Cosima.”

Her mother shakes her head.

“You’ve spent enough time with Cosima for today. You can see her again tomorrow,” she answers. “Your father is worried. He’ll want to see you and know that you’re okay.”

Delphine glances past her mother to find Cosima again, searching for an answer. Cosima smiles back at her, nodding, reassuring. _Count your blessings,_ her look reads. She’s probably right. This meeting could have ended much worse. 

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cosima tells her.

Delphine nods, unable to hide her blushing grin. What will tomorrow look like, she wonders? Will it look like the soft plains of Cosima’s body as she trails her lips across them, quickly familiarizing herself with the layout of her new kingdom? Will it look like the gentle squeeze of her hand in public? Or maybe it’ll look like a simple flash of white, canines exposed as a daring tongue pokes out from behind? Whatever the future decides to settle on, she knows she’ll wake with the strength to greet it, to entangle herself in all the infinite possibilities of the cosmos splayed out before her.


	16. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Sorry this one's a couple of days late, I took a few days to go over and rework some of it. Hope you all like it and I hope it helps to ease some of the post-finale pain. Much love, clone club. Stay strong!

It’s the strangest thing how a single word can evoke so many different emotions at so many different points in one’s life. Words are like chameleons, she thinks— they never stay fixed as one, set colour. They’re constantly changing, constantly adapting depending on their environment and whether or not there’s a perceived threat lurking about. One minute, they’re green and leafy. The next, they’re dark and earthy— a different texture, a different timbre. 

 

At one point, the very word “sleepover,” had evoked a sense of dread within her. Andrea had sleepovers quite often and it was usually Pauline who would convince her to come. They would stay up all night talking about boys and music and television, the kind of things most teenage girls would talk about, and she would slowly find her colours shifting until she matched the walls of Andrea’s room. And there she would sit, quietly in the background, almost safely forgotten until Andrea or Pauline or Michelle would randomly drag her back into the conversation again and the pattern of her skin would shift to something horribly noticeable, like blushing red or screaming purple. She would count down the minutes until morning, minutes which never seemed to pass quickly enough.

 

**Sleepover? ;)**

 

A single word, a simple text message, and her entire body is aflame. She knows full well what “sleepover” implies. She’s spent more weekends at Cosima’s house in the last month and a half than she has at her own. Ever since she tasted Cosima, she’s found herself constantly running back for more. There are so many different ways to have a person, she’s come to learn. She used to think it was straightforward and simple, but whenever they have the space and time, Cosima seems to show her a brand new way to blow her mind. Her favourite is when she can feel Cosima all the way inside of her, fingers twisting and twirling with their foreheads pressed together, panting and exchanging laboured puffs of breath that are tinged with electricity. It had been a strange sensation at first, but now when she feels the brunette at her entrance, her entire body bucks itself forward towards Cosima’s hand in search of the wholeness it promises.

 

She races down the stairs and sure enough, her mother is in the kitchen. However, she’s not preparing dinner like she usually does at this time of day. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes heavy as she takes the occasional drag of her cigarette. This, too, is strange. Delphine can’t remember the last time she saw her mother smoking in the house. She usually smokes outside on the patio and with summer fast approaching, it’s even more surprising to find her mother inside.

 

“Is it okay if I spend the night at Cosima’s?”

 

Delphine’s voice catches her mother’s attention and rips her from whatever stupor she’s in.

 

“Cosima?” 

 

“It’s Friday. I don’t have school tomorrow. I finished all of my homework for the weekend, too,” Delphine adds. “I’ll even call to check in later if you’d like.”

 

The older woman hadn’t had a problem with her weekends spent at Cosima’s. After the initial anxiety surrounding her not coming home that first night when her and Cosima had made love, Delphine had made sure to placate her mother at every possible turn. She checked in frequently and never missed her curfew. On Fridays and Saturdays, she was allowed to spend the night at Cosima’s if she’d completed her schoolwork and other obligations. It was a fair system, one that worked and kept everyone happy, but Delphine’s mother suddenly seems very weary of the suggestion.

 

“What is it, _Maman?”_

 

Her mother sighs.

 

“Sit down, Delphine.”

 

She doesn’t understand, but she slowly lowers herself into the seat across from her mother anyway.

 

“Is something wrong?” she tries again.

 

Her mother takes one last, long drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. She holds the breath in for longer than usual before expelling the puff of smoke into the air above them.

 

“I know.”

 

Her gaze is steady as it meets her daughter’s, but Delphine is unable to decipher it.

 

“You know…?” she asks, clearly confused.

 

“About you,” her mother clarifies.

 

A beat of silence passes between them.

 

“You and Cosima.”

 

The entire world ceases. 

 

It’s the strangest thing how a single word can evoke so many different emotions at so many different points in one’s life. Cosima’s name, for instance. When spoken from her mother’s lips, with such an accusatory tone, all of the light and joy is sucked away completely and replaced with a screeching, piercing dread, a deep freeze.

 

 

_“Maman…”_

 

“I should have known. I should have known this was going on,” her mother mutters, shaking her head in disappointment. “Maybe if I had, I could have gotten you help and then you wouldn’t have tried to—“

 

“That’s not it!” Delphine explodes, slamming her hands down on the table. “This isn’t… this just happened!”

 

“Don’t lie to me, Delphine,” her mother replies, her voice low and harsh. “This didn’t _just happen_. This has _been happening_.”

 

She feels her chest constrict painfully and it’s as if she’s being stepped on. She certainly feels small enough to be squashed beneath a foot.

 

“I-It… it started when I met Cosima. But not really,” she begins explaining. “I didn’t realize how I felt until… later.”

 

She realizes how terrible she is at explaining these things and she wishes that Cosima was here. Cosima’s so much better at this. She’s certain that Cosima could make her mother understand, with her easy words and dancing hands.

 

“I knew it was that girl. I knew there was something about her.”

 

“Don’t say that!” Delphine shouts, teary-eyed. “She’s wonderful, _Maman!_ I love her!”

 

Her mother reaches into her pack of cigarettes on the table and grabs another, laughing as she shakes her head at her daughter’s naiveté.

 

“Love is a wonderful thing when you’re young,” she remarks, lighting her cigarette. “It doesn’t stay wonderful for very long, Delphine. You’ll realize this soon enough.”

 

She watches her mother exhale another puff of smoke, watches at it floats away into the air above them and slowly disperses. She feels envious. She wishes she were light enough to rise above herself.

 

“Cosima makes me feel special. She makes me feel like the world isn’t so loud, you know?” she muses. “Like it’s just the two of us. When I’m with her, I don’t feel scared. I don’t feel like I want to disappear completely.”

 

Her mother scoffs, as if actually hearing the truth from her daughter’s mouth for the first time is too ridiculous a thing. In all of these months, she’s never actually come clean to her mother about  _how,_ about _why._ She never saw a window into that conversation and now, here they are.

 

“You said it before. You said that I’ve been doing better since I’ve met Cosima. _You know this_!”

 

It’s undeniable. Even Doctor Leekie agrees with her, despite his reservations surrounding her relationship with Cosima. She’s been doing significantly better, she’s become far more open than she ever was before. She hasn’t had a full-blown episode in quite a long while and even when she does feel the cobwebs in her head begin to grow jagged and fuzzy all at the same time, Cosima is there to help her wade through them. She slides out of her chair and finds herself on her knees in front of her mother, grabbing the woman’s hands. Her mother’s eyes swell with tears of her own and she does her best to fight them off.

 

“Please try to understand. _Please,”_ Delphine begs.

 

Her mother pulls her hands away.

 

“Delphine, I barely know this girl!” she protests. “The only time I see her is from the driveway when she’s picking you up or dropping you off! How am I to feel about her?”

 

“If you’d just give her a chance, I know you’d love her, too, _Maman!_ I know it!”

 

She finds her mother’s eyes again, pleading, searching. The woman seems torn at the seams and exhausted, unsure of which is stronger— her overprotectiveness or her daughter’s desperation. She never thought in a thousand lifetimes that she’d be having such a conversation with her daughter, that she’d have to worry about her daughter falling for someone else’s daughter. She’s overwhelmed and unprepared, but as she stares into Delphine’s flickering eyes, she’s able to set aside her own emotions for a brief moment.

 

_“D’accord.”_

 

Delphine, still on her knees, freezes in position. Did she hear her mother correctly? Did she actually agree to give Cosima a chance? Was this really happening right now?

 

_“Pardon?”_

 

The older woman stubs out her cigarette and sighs deeply, running her hands over her face as if to sober herself, to scrub away the weariness in her pores.

 

“I’m willing… I’m willing to try, God help me,” she mutters, shaking her head.

 

Delphine slowly rises to her feet again.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Her mother drums her fingers along the table’s surface, the light tapping sound filling the silence between them as she considers her own words.

 

“Why don’t you invite Cosima over for dinner tomorrow night?” she offers. “It would give us a chance to get to know her better.”

 

“You want Cosima to come for dinner?” Delphine asks incredulously.

 

“I said I would try, Delphine,” her mother retorts in a defensive tone. “This is me trying.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Delphine agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll ask her when I get there.”

 

“Not tonight. No sleepover.”

 

“Why not?” Delphine whines, her posture slumping.

 

“Because you’re a teenager and you think you’re in love,” her mother throws back at her. “I know what teenagers who think they’re in love _do_ when they’re alone together. You’re too young for that, Delphine.”

 

“I’m not!” she protests

 

“Sex has consequences— consequences I’m not sure you can handle in your current state.”

 

“Consequences?” Delphine nearly scoffs. “I’m certain you don’t have to worry about grandchildren, _Maman_.”

 

“Up to your room! Now!”

 

She quietly stalks away like a dog with its tail between its legs, sour over being denied an evening with Cosima. She knows she shouldn’t be too upset though, even as she grumbles all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. At least she managed to convince her mother to give Cosima a chance. She expected a much more explosive discussion. Upon reaching her destination, she falls back onto her bed and reaches for her phone to call Cosima.

 

“Dinner?” she skeptically asks as soon as Delphine fills her in on the unfolding drama.

 

_“Oui,”_ she answers. “ _Maman_ wants to get to know you better.”

 

“Nah, I get it. It’s just… kinda weird, don’t you think? I mean, dinner with you and the parentals?”

 

It does sound strange. She can’t picture Cosima sitting still at the dinner table, trying to make passive and pleasant conversation with her mother and father. She often finds herself overwhelmed by Cosima’s slang and she can’t imagine how her very French parents will interpret it.

 

“You won’t have to worry about _Papa_. He never speaks,” Delphine mumbles into the receiver. “He’ll probably just stare at his plate or leave halfway through.”

 

“Well, your mother knows we’re fucking, so your father not making small-talk over dinner is the least of my worries.”

 

“Cosima!” she scolds.

 

“What?” Cosima giggles.

 

“Do you have to use such a… a _vulgar_ word?”

 

“What? _Fuck_?”

 

“Yes. It makes it sound dirty.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Cosima laughs dismissively. “You think it’s hot.”

 

“I _do not!”_

 

“Well, you did last week. Remember?” she retorts, shifting her voice to do her best imitation of the blonde. _“Baise-moi, Cosima! S'il te plaît! S'il te plaît!”_

 

“That’s enough!” she grumbles, putting an end to Cosima’s playful teasing. “Are you coming to dinner or not?”

 

“Sure. I’ll play ball.”

 

Delphine expels a quiet sigh of relief and smiles to herself. The whole concept of dinner with her parents and Cosima makes her nervous, but she knows that this is for the best. She just hopes that Cosima isn’t insulted, that spending an evening trapped at a dinner table with a disapproving mother breathing down her neck and bombarding her with personal questions isn’t enough to push her away.

 

“Hey, Delphine?”

 

Cosima’s voice pulls her back into the phone conversation.

 

“Yes?”

 

She can hear the playful smile through the receiver before Cosima even gets her next words out.

 

“What are you wearing?”

 

 

\+ + + + + + + + +

 

 

If Cosima is nervous, she hides it well. She breezes through the door with that toothy smile of hers, walking straight up to Delphine’s mother and embracing her. The older woman seems slightly uncomfortable by the gesture, but she doesn’t push Cosima away, merely stands limp in the brunette’s arms before raising a hand to pat Cosima on the shoulder. Delphine watches nervously from the sidelines, uncertain of how to read her mother’s expression. When Delphine’s mother disappears back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, the two girls take advantage of their momentary privacy to sneak a quick kiss.

 

To say that an awkward air hangs over the dining room table would be an understatement. Her mother and father sit at either end of the table, as they usually do, while Cosima sits next to Delphine on her right. The blonde finds herself acutely aware of the distance between herself and her parents, as if there is this unspoken force that pushes them apart, opposite to the one that pulls her closer to Cosima as she rests her hand on the shorter girl’s knee under the table and out of sight.

 

“Delphine tells me you like the sciences, as well, Cosima?” her mother speaks, attempting to make conversation as she shovels a few green beans onto her plate.

 

Delphine nods and hums enthusiastically.

 

“Cosima wants to be a scientist,” she answers for her girlfriend. “She’s at the top of all of her classes.”

 

“So you’re an overachiever, like Delphine?” her mother asks, almost impressed.

 

“I guess,” Cosima mumbles, picking at a few carrots with her fork.

 

Delphine’s mother looks across the table to her father. The man is as silent as ever, though his eyes remain curiously fixed on Cosima. As soon as he feels his wife’s gaze on him, he pulls his own from the young girl and returns it.

 

“Your parents must be proud,” the older woman remarks.

 

“Yeah. Probably.”

 

Delphine frowns. Cosima isn’t really good at talking about stuff like this. She’s highly intelligent and confident, but never boastful. It’s one of her most endearing qualities. Delphine remembers back to one of their earliest conversations, when they had compared their grades and the French girl felt a slight pang of jealousy when she learned that Cosima’s were better than her own. Cosima had dismissed her own achievements like they were nothing and admitted that she hadn’t even started looking at universities, much to Delphine’s surprise. Delphine had always had her heart sent on Frankfurt, on the Goethe-Universität, and even though they still had yet another year of high school to complete, she somehow managed to convince Cosima to apply, as well. That way, they could study and be together 

 

“They just want me to be happy. Grades are just numbers on a piece of paper, you know?” Cosima tries to explain. “I mean, I like to learn and stuff, that’s why I do so well. It’s not like I have anything to prove.”

 

Delphine’s mother seems shocked by Cosima’s response, although intrigued. She abandons her fork momentarily and leans forward.

 

“If you don’t care about your grades, how will you get into a good university? How will you get a good job? What about your future?”

 

It’s the typical response, one Delphine has heard many times. To be fair, since the incident, her mother’s lectures have decreased significantly, but the pressure still exists. Before, it had been about getting accepted into a top university and proving herself; she thought it she could do that, she would be happy. Now, she thinks of school as a means to an end. If it will give her a chance to leave this place behind and start somewhere new with Cosima, to _really_ start their adult lives together, then it’ll all be worth it.

 

“I think the universe has a way of sorting itself out,” Cosima diplomatically answers, carefully selecting her words. “Things happen as they’re meant to happen and you just gotta roll with it, you know? You might not end up at Yale, things might not end up at all like you expected them to, but that doesn’t mean it’s all a waste, does it?”

 

“I see,” her mother considers. “Well, you’re still very young, I suppose. Though you won’t be young forever.”

 

“That’s what _you_ think,” Cosima jokes. “I’m a Lost Boy for life… or a Lost Girl, I guess.”

 

“There are no Lost Girls.”

 

All heads turn to face the opposite end of the table where Delphine’s father stares over the rim of his wine glass. She so rarely hears her father speak, especially to strangers. But his gaze is fixed and penetrating as he stares at Cosima and she meets his gaze head-on, smile still in place.

 

“Girls are too clever to get themselves lost. That’s why there’s only Lost Boys.”

 

Delphine smiles now, too. Cosima _is_ clever. The cleverest of the clever, in fact. She’s her clever girl, all wit and spark and modest in intent. 

 

“I dunno,” Cosima shrugs. “I mean, even clever people get themselves lost sometimes. Or maybe… I dunno… maybe they just lose themselves instead. It’s hard to keep track of yourself with all that cleverness crammed into your head, huh? It can get distracting. I can barely remember where I parked my car half the time.”

 

Her father nods, her mother smiles and Delphine stares down into her own lap, the angle of her head and the hair in her face shielding her expression from view, her furrowed brow and dark, glossy eyes.

 

“Another thing you have in common with Delphine,” her mother interjects. “Sometimes I think she’d lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her body.”

 

Her grip on Cosima’s knee tightens and she digs her two front teeth into her lower lip. And then, she feels the softness of Cosima’s hand resting atop her own, Cosima’s thumb brushing gentle strokes across her knuckles. Just like that, the heaviness in her heart— the one that pushes her head down in shame, sucks away her vision and robs her of her voice— slowly begins to lift.

 

“She’s certainly… interesting.”

 

As soon as dinner is over, her father disappears, Cosima excuses herself to the bathroom and Delphine immediately begins helping her mother clear the table. She gathers all of the dishes and brings them into the kitchen as her mother begins rinsing them. When she’s done rinsing them, she hands them to Delphine to place in the dishwasher. They carry on like an efficient assembly line in relative silence, Delphine too nervous to speak. As far as she can tell, dinner appeared to have gone quite well, but she finds herself unable to read her mother’s expression.

 

“I understand why you like her,” the older woman speaks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “She’s a nice girl—a little strange _—_ but nice. Though I can’t say I understand half of what she says. She speaks so fast and uses such strange words…”

 

The blonde nearly jumps in excitement, a wide smile overwhelming the rest of her features. She doesn’t want to appear too pleased or too eager, so she swallows her joy and nods, continuing with the task at hand as she smiles to herself.

 

Her mother sighs, momentarily abandoning the dishes. She braces herself over the sink, staring into the soapy water with her own bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Delphine’s smile quickly slips away and she finds herself pausing, as well.

 

“I’m trying my best to be open-minded, Delphine.”

 

“I know, _Maman_ ,” Delphine acknowledges.“Thank you.”

 

Her mother turns to face her.

 

“But that doesn’t mean I approve of the two of you sneaking around,” she adds, placing her hands on her hips for emphasis. “Whether it’s with a boy or a girl, I think you’re too young for… _intimate relations_. Do you understand?”

 

She can tell that her mother is struggling with this conversation. They’ve never had it before, after all. The farthest they’ve ever gotten was when Delphine started her period for the very first time and her mother had given her a quick synopsis of her newfound womanly status. Of course, Delphine was already well aware of this, having done plenty of research herself. Her mother told her that boys would start to notice her more, that she would start to notice boys, and while boys could be fun and exciting, it was important for her to focus on her studies and not to succumb to any teenage hormones. 

 

“You’re a lady, Delphine,” her mother had told her. “You need to act like a lady. And you need to find yourself a gentleman, someone who will be patient and understanding.”

 

“I’m sixteen, _Maman._ I’m not _that_ young,” Delphine pouts. “Most of the girls at school have already been with many boys.”

 

“Please, Delphine. I don’t want that going on under my roof,” her mother retorts, her tone a little harsher than before. “I know I can’t keep an eye on you all the time, I know I can’t control you, but _promise me_ you’ll be respectful.”

 

She’s never once had sex with Cosima in her own home, mainly because she knows how her mother feels about the subject. Cosima’s parents give the brunette so much space and Delphine often finds herself envious of this. It isn’t even that they’re necessarily absent. In fact, one of them always seems to linger, hanging nearby in case they’re needed. But they’re never needed. Cosima, despite her immaturity at times, is responsible. Cosima’s parents never enter her room without permission, they always knock and are very respectful of their daughter’s privacy. When Cosima brings the blonde home with her, they always make sure to say a quick hello to whichever parent is around before disappearing upstairs and for the most part, the two girls never hear from them for the remainder of the night, unless they’re being called for dinner or Cosima has to be reminded to finish her chores.

 

“I will,” she agrees.

 

It isn’t a complete lie. She has no intention of ever bringing Cosima to her bed… though she has every intention of falling into Cosima’s. Out of sight, out of mind. At least, that’s how she hopes things will play out. Her mother eyes her closely, as if she can sense this unspoken rebellion, although she recognizes how powerless she is to stop it, how futile it is for her to be angry at her daughter for something she may or may not do in the future.

 

“Good,” she says curtly. “Now go and find _Papa.”_

 

Delphine nods, placing one last dish in the dishwasher before abandoning her mother in search of her father. He’d left the dinner table without a word, but she knows his routine fairly well by now. After dinner, if the weather is nice, her father likes to sit out on the patio where he smokes and reads whatever book he’s into at the time. As she maneuvers herself through her house, she hears the sound of an enthusiastic voice ringing from the patio. 

 

It’s Cosima.

 

She pauses, confused. Cosima had dismissed herself to the bathroom, but that had been several minutes ago. She hadn’t heard the eccentric young girl come out, but she’s certain that it’s Cosima’s voice. She follows it like a siren’s call until she finds herself frozen, yet again. The sliding glass door leading out to the patio is slightly ajar and she sees her father puffing away on his cigarette as he both listens to and watches Cosima speak, her hands flailing wildly as they try to keep up with her lips.

 

“No, no, no— but that’s the thing— right?”

 

The laughter that follows Cosima’s voice rattles the French girl. It belongs to her father. _Her father is laughing. At Cosima._ She can’t ever remember hearing her father’s laughter and yet, as she stares in awe, he’s laughing at whatever conversation Cosima has surely stricken up. How did Cosima find him, anyway? How did she manage to effectively insert herself into his presence? Her father always seemed so uncomfortable around people and yet, as she watches, he seems as at ease with the shorter girl as Delphine is.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want. You _know_ I’m right,” Cosima insists.

 

Delphine takes the opportunity to make her presence known. She steps through the opening to join the other two out on the patio.

 

“Hey!” Cosima greets, another wave of excitement rolling off of her. “I was just talking with your dad.”

 

“I… see,” Delphine replies, still completely in shock.

 

Her father ashes his cigarette and tucks his unopened book beneath his arm. He sports a crooked smile as he shakes his head, clearly amused by the startling ball of energy that has interrupted his private time.

 

_“Tu êtes un fille étrange,”_ he mumbles as he passes by them, disappearing back into the house.

 

“Huh? What’d he say?”

 

Delphine is unable to pull her eyes away from Cosima’s face, still swimming in awe. 

 

“Come here.”

 

“What?”

 

Delphine repeats herself and Cosima stares at her skeptically.

 

“What is it?” she asks as she steps closer to Delphine.

 

Delphine brings her hands to cup Cosima’s face, brushing her thumb along Cosima’s lips. She leans forward, answering Cosima’s question with a firm kiss. Cosima moans into her lips, rolling onto the tips of her toes so that she can wrap her arms around Delphine’s neck, Delphine’s hands dropping to grip Cosima’s waist. It’s easy to forget where they are, with the garden lanterns glowing in the dark like fireflies, the warmth of lips and skin and fast approaching summer dripping over them like a hazy delirium. They don’t even notice the sound of the patio door sliding shut as Delphine’s father closes it, offering the couple a brief respite before shuffling over and collapsing into his arm chair. He opens his book and begins reading in silence.

 

 


	17. Choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** I was busy with Pride festivities over the weekend so I didn't get a chance to finish this one in time, but here it is now! I know I say this often, but please don't hate me :(

“I can’t remember the last time _Papa_ tried to engage with me,” she muses, staring up at the ceiling as she tries to recall the moment. “It must have been… well, it was when he convinced me to come here to see you.”

 

She remembers that peculiar conversation they had in her kitchen so many months ago. She isn’t sure why her father’s opinion had resonated so much with her at the time, but it had and she was grateful. Grateful because not only did it lead her to getting the help that she needed, but it inadvertently led her to Cosima. She smiles, thinking of her silly love. Cosima is right— the universe has the strangest way of working itself out.

 

“What do you think inspired him?” Doctor Leekie asks, rolling his pen between his fingers.

 

Delphine laughs.

 

“Cosima can do that very easily.”

 

“Cosima?’

 

She freezes, having caught herself in her own folly. She’s been careful to keep her relationship with Cosima on the down low during her appointments. Ever since Doctor Leekie had cryptically tried to dissuade her from pursuing a relationship with the shorter girl, she made a point not to discuss their relationship with the doctor in further detail. She didn’t want him trying to poison her and spoil the love between them.

 

“Delphine,” he says knowingly. “You need to be honest with me.”

 

She nervously digs her nails into the the leather armrests, aware that she’s been caught.

 

“I’ve been very patient with you all this time, haven’t I?”

 

She nods slowly.

 

“I want to help you, Delphine, but I can’t do that if you continue to lie to me.”

 

“I didn’t lie to you. I’m _not_ lying,” she protests. “I just… didn’t tell you everything. Just like you don’t tell me everything.”

 

Leekie sighs.

 

“Tell me about Cosima, Delphine.”

 

She crosses her legs, squeezing her thighs together tightly.

 

“You’re in a relationship.”

 

She shoots him a look of alarm. How did he know that? Then again, she _is_ a terrible liar. It’s very possible that he’s been able to piece it together on his own not with what she told him, but what she _didn’t_ tell him. She concedes, nodding in agreement to his statement.

 

“I thought so,” he remarks. 

 

She frowns.

 

“I know what you’re going to say.”

 

“Do you?” he counters, intrigued.

 

“You’re going to tell me that I’m young, that I’m in love and I don’t know any better. But I do,” she argues. “Trust me. I know how I feel about Cosima. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I know I’ll never feel this way about anyone else ever.”

 

He eyes her closely as she becomes increasingly bolder, unable to contain her feelings any longer.

 

“As soon as we graduate, we’re going to move to Germany. We’re going to study together, we’re going to become scientists. When I think about that, when I think about our future, it’s like my thoughts finally become clear, you know? For the first time, I can make complete sense of them. It’s like I know my place, like I know what the world is trying to tell me.”

 

Leekie is the one who’s frowning now. He shifts in his chair before clearing his throat.

 

“I don’t believe it’s very healthy to invest so much of yourself into another person,” he replies. “You’ve become too dependant upon Cosima. You need to learn how—“

 

“Have you ever been in love?” she interrupts him.

 

“I don’t need a lecture on the power of love,” he deadpans.

 

“I understand what you’re saying. You’re worried that I rely on Cosima just to get through the day, but _I don’t._ I can get through the day on my own, I promise you,” she pushes back. “It isn’t always easy, but I can do it. It’s just that… knowing that Cosima’s waiting for me at the end of the day gives me a reason to _want_ to get through it, you know?”

  
He rubs his balding head, trying to tread very carefully.

 

“I’m going to be very honest with you, Delphine, because I think you need to hear this.”

 

He sets his pen and notepad aside, leaning forward in his chair. Every movement captures her attention and she’s left hanging, waiting for him to finish his thought. Is he finally going to tell her what it is he’s been holding back all these months?

 

“Cosima… well…”

 

He struggles to form the sentence, unable to settle on the words as Delphine watches him anxiously. He very slightly softens his demeanour, his tone losing its firmness, as well.

 

“You need _stability_ , Delphine. And Cosima? Someone with her condition can’t really offer you that.”

 

Delphine shakes her head, unable to mask her confusion. 

 

“What do you mean?” she asks him. “ _Her condition._ What do you mean by that?”

 

Her mouth is dry, her hands begin to fidget, her fingers twisting and grabbing at the leather of her chair. She can feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, threatening to break free and take off running. She just can’t shake this deep, foreboding feeling that tells her Cosima is worse off than she ever could have imagined. There are so many things that can plague the mind and the heart and she comes to realize that she has no idea how heavy the brunette’s burdens truly are.

 

“You need to speak to Cosima,” is all he says.

 

“I’m speaking to _you_.”

 

“Cosima’s also my patient, Delphine,” he counters. “I can’t breach her confidence.”

 

She huffs angrily, standing up and gathering her bag. There’s still another twenty minutes left in her session but they both know she has no intention of sitting through them, not when the only thing she wants to talk about seems to be the only taboo subject within these four walls.

 

“It’s my job to act in your best interest— both yours and Cosima’s,” Leekie speaks as she slings her purse over her shoulder. “I’m only looking out for the both of you.”

 

She storms over to the door and he raises his voice so she can hear him as she storms through it.

 

“Talk to Cosima, Delphine!”

 

 

\+ + + + + + + + + +

 

 

The walk outside to the parking lot is a long one. She feels as though she’s on trial, reluctantly trekking towards her sentence— a vivacious drop of sunlight that should fill her with a sense of warmth, but instead only rouses an image of a pyre and reminds her of the surrounding darkness that it permeates. She spots Cosima’s Jeep and makes her way over with heavy feet and even heavier thoughts. 

 

“Hey. You’re early. How was your session with Freaky Leekie?” Cosima asks with a wriggle of her eyebrows as Delphine slips into the vehicle.

 

Delphine is silent, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Should they speak now? Right here, in this parking lot? No. This isn’t the place for such a conversation. They need somewhere more private, somewhere safe. Cosima shoots Delphine a quizzical glance, clearly sensing that something is off with her girlfriend.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Can we go back to your house?” Delphine asks, trying hard not to come off as pleading. 

 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

Cosima’s music blares loudly as they make the trip, windows down and a breeze blowing through the European’s mane of golden curls. She sticks her head out the window and closes her eyes, hyperaware of the wind as it both cuts and caresses her face with hands that can’t decide between harshness or tenderness. When Cosima pulls into the driveway and parks, she tries to fight off the nausea that’s settled in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Do you wanna order a pizza or something?” Cosima suggests, sliding her key into the lock and opening the front door. “Dad’s tied up at work and mom’s gotta help my aunt move a few more things to her new place, but she should be back pretty soon.”

 

Delphine is silent as she follows Cosima into the warm, fleshy depths of her house. Her brow is furrowed and her lips are drawn in a straight line across her face while Cosima continues to ramble, kicking off her shoes and venturing into the kitchen.

 

“I don’t really wanna wait for mom, though. I’m starving,” she adds. “We can watch a movie or something.”

 

Delphine finally stops, frozen in the middle of the kitchen while her bottom lip quivers. When Cosima notices that the taller girl has stopped, she turns around to acknowledge her stillness and silence. As soon as she sees Delphine’s distress written plainly on her face, she comes rushing over and erases the short distance between them.

 

“Hey. What is it?” Cosima coos, wrapping her arms around Delphine. “You’ve been really quiet this whole time. What’s wrong?”

 

Delphine inhales a shaky breath, lingering in Cosima’s embrace for another second before taking a step back so she can view her more fully, see the concern that flickers in Cosima’s eyes and the softness of her features. Cosima waits expectantly for the French girl to speak, braves the momentary silence as Delphine works up the courage to finally ask the question that’s impossible for her to smother any longer.

 

“What are you not telling me?”

 

Cosima blinks.

 

“What?”

 

She looks genuinely confused, cocking her head to the side and waiting for Delphine to explain herself. Delphine swallows hard, digging for the courage which is nestled somewhere in the depths of her bowels, just beneath the nausea. 

 

“Doctor Leekie said that we need to talk,” she starts. “I… I think he’s right.”

 

“Leekie?”

 

Now it’s Cosima’s turn for silence. She tries it on like a hand-me-down sweater, taking a moment to adjust, trying to decide whether or not it fits her properly. Either way, she decides to wear it for the time being. She frowns, turning her back on Delphine and walking over to the kitchen counter. She braces herself on the edge of the granite countertop, staring into the toaster which stares back at her, her face distorted by its cool, reflective surface.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna talk about us with Leekie anymore?” she quietly asks, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “You said he was a dick that didn’t understand anything.”

 

After she’d kissed Cosima for the first time, Delphine had tried to voice her feelings for the brunette to her therapist, but Leekie had been cryptic and withholding, to say the very least. Since that appointment, she was careful not to reveal too much about the details of her relationship with Cosima, but somehow, the sly doctor had managed to pull it out of her anyway.

 

“I wasn’t going to, but I was talking about _Papa_ and how he spoke at our dinner and your name just slipped out of my mouth. Then he sort of pulled out the rest,” Delphine tries to explain. “He has a way of doing that…”

 

Cosima nods slowly, silently, trying to process everything Delphine’s telling her as white knuckles grip the edge of the counter.

 

“You’ve been talking about me. With him,” she summarizes.

 

“Well… yes,” Delphine answers.

 

Cosima doesn’t have to say anything. She turns back around and Delphine can tell by the look in her eyes that the shorter girl is angry. Cosima licks her lips, taking a deep breath and then exhaling it. Delphine recognizes this gesture, recognizes it as something she does herself when she can feel an episode coming on and she’s trying to combat it, trying to center herself before she spirals out of control. But Cosima isn’t like her. Cosima doesn’t have episodes. 

 

“You’re angry,” Delphine mutters with a frown.

 

“Yeah, I am.”

 

Her tone is low, but it’s sharp. It’s the rumble that comes before the rain, the kind that has most people scattering for shelter before they get caught up in it. But Delphine has nowhere to run. Not anymore. She’s the one who summoned the clouds and so she stands her ground with uneasy legs as the sky above her begins to growl and dim.

 

“I don’t see what the problem is, Cosima. It’s not like—“

 

“What did he say about me?” Cosima interrupts.

 

It’s a strange question, one full of anger and paranoia and a touch of desperation. It throws Delphine off guard and she answers Cosima’s question with an incredulous look.

 

“Nothing—”

 

“You had this big conversation about me and he didn’t say a single word?” Cosima presses, her tone becoming more harsh. “Geez, that’s a really one-sided conversation, don’t you think?”

 

Delphine shakes her head, completely stunned.

 

“Why are you so upset about this?”

 

“Because it’s not just _your_ private life, Delphine! It’s mine, too!” Cosima shouts.

 

Delphine jumps back a step, alarmed by the volume of Cosima’s voice. Her eyes grow even wider and she feels like she’s witnessing a hurricane tearing through her home, the planks of wood and pieces of glass that had kept her steady and covered for so long being ripped away piece-by-piece. They spiral around her, taunting her, lashing out and biting her.

 

“You know, I talk to Leekie every week and I don’t feel the need to throw you under the bus!” Cosima adds.

 

“I didn’t throw you anywhere, Cosima!” she barks back. “That’s not what happened!”

 

How can Cosima really think that? How can she think that she would do such a thing? She’s done nothing but protect her, protect _their love_ from everyone else in her life. How could Cosima think that she’d scoff and throw it away? Her heart beats painfully in her chest and she’s much too aware of it as Cosima glares at her, her breathing now a touch erratic. 

 

“Oh, really? Then what _did_ happen?”

 

Delphine tries to straighten her spine and meet Cosima head-on.

 

“I told him that I was in love with you and he said—“

 

She stops herself.

 

“What?” Cosima asks, prodding her to continue.

 

Delphine closes her eyes, preparing herself for Cosima to lash out again.

 

“He told me that you’re unstable and that I shouldn’t get involved with someone like you,” she says, eyes still clamped shut and her voice a little softer. “He said that I shouldn’t get my hopes up with you.”

 

When she opens her eyes again, she expects to be staring directly into Cosima’s fury. Instead, she’s staring at the brunette’s back as Cosima braces herself over the counter once again, her breathing even more laboured than it was before. She seems to be struggling for breath and Delphine, horrified, recognizes the struggle. She approaches the shorter girl and places a hand on her back to soothe her.

 

“Cosima—“

 

“Can we not do this?”

 

Her voice is so small and defeated, fighting desperately to break through the uneven breaths and reach her girlfriend’s ears. The blonde’s eyes tear up at the very sound of it. She wraps her arms around Cosima’s waist and buries her face in Cosima’s back, embracing her from behind.

 

“What does Leekie mean, that you’re unstable?” she asks more gently. “You’re the most stable person I know. If he thinks _you’re_ unstable, then—“

 

“Just stop!”

 

Cosima is pushing back against her and Delphine stumbles to maintain her footing as she’s forced away from her lover and nearly falls on her backside. Cosima has never once been so physically rough with her and it rattles Delphine in an unspeakable way. The shorter girl is desperate, desperate to put as much space as possible between the two of them, to retreat once again. They both know that it’s the only way for her to protect herself; she’s never been able to keep her guard up under Delphine’s touch.

 

“What is it? Tell me.”

 

As difficult as it is to watch, Delphine knows that she’s _so close_. So close to the truth that Cosima is clinging to like a child to her favourite toy, scared and selfish. Delphine steps forward, oblivious of her own tears even as they blur her vision and cause her eyes to swell. 

 

She reaches out to Cosima.

 

That’s the very moment that the brunette crumbles, a heavy sob escaping her lips.

 

_“I don’t want to!”_

 

She tries to recoil, to back away and hide her face from her girlfriend’s view, but Delphine has her trapped between the counter and her own body, leaving nowhere to run, no place to hide, no truth to cling to anymore.

 

“We can tell each other anything, Cosima,” Delphine reinforces, finding Cosima’s face with her hands and cradling it, the pads of her thumbs wiping at heavy tears. “You can tell me anything. _Just tell me._ ”

 

She presses her forehead to Cosima’s to emphasize her point. When Cosima doesn’t immediately pull away, she moves to kiss her. It’s too much. Her lips barely graze Cosima’s before the brunette is shaking her head wildly, shimmying out of Delphine’s grasp and sliding away from the two solid forces she’s trapped between.

 

_“I don’t want to do this, Delphine!”_

 

She brings her hand to her mouth in an attempt to silence her sobbing, but she’s unsuccessful. She tries to walk away, but her feet don’t take her very far before she slinks down to the kitchen floor. Delphine watches as Cosima retreats into herself completely, hugging her knees to her chest as she tries to control her breathing and steady her sob-racked lungs. She watches from above, angry and terrified and hopeless all at once.

 

“You said we could tell each other anything, but you haven’t really told me a thing, have you?” she finally comes to realize.

 

Cosima shakes her head.

 

“I… I don’t know how,” she mumbles into her knees.

 

_“Just talk, Cosima!”_ Delphine finally erupts.

 

She doesn’t mean to shout, but she loses herself amongst the terrible violence of noise that’s screaming in her head, the sound of so many different feelings clanging and crashing together, mixing with the sound of Cosima’s sobs and her heart slamming in her chest, ears, even her fingertips. It’s dizzying. It’s _everywhere_.

 

“You said you were good at talking! You talk to everyone else, you talk about everything, so why can’t you just talk to me?”

 

She drops to the ground, partly because she doesn’t trust her own legs anymore and partly so that she’s on Cosima’s level, kneeling before her like a sinner at the cross. She tugs there strange lover’s hands away from her face, forcing Cosima to look at her, to acknowledge that she’s there.

 

“I want to understand, Cosima. I want to help,” she pleads. _“Please let me help you.”_

 

Cosima sniffles, her tears yielding at her lover’s words. She searches Delphine’s eyes and for a moment, the blonde is hopeful. For a moment, she sees the promise of a spark. But as quickly as it appears, as quickly as Cosima’s mouth opens to speak, it fizzles out. She watches as those amber orbs dull over and become opaque.

 

“You can’t help me.”

 

Delphine squeezes Cosima’s hands a little harder, trying to fight back her own sobs.

 

“I-If— if you’d give me a— _a_ _chance—“_

 

Cosima reclaims her hands, tugging them roughly away from Delphine’s grasp. She shakes her head, then buries her face in her newly freed hands.

 

_“You can’t,”_ she repeats herself, her voice cracking as it catches in her throat.

 

Delphine pulls back. She rises to her feet robotically, her legs making sense of commands her brain can’t discern through the haze of her heartbreak. She stares down, down at Cosima who’d always been so high above her until now. Had that all been a lie? How could she not have seen _this_? How could she have let _this_ happen?

 

“You’re right,” she chokes. “ _I can’t.”_

 

Her face is blank, completely devoid of any emotion save from the few tears that streak messily down her face. It’s as if after all of their violent clashing, her feelings have all cancelled each other out, erasing themselves completely. She’s left with a numbness that settles into her bones, though it’s far from comfortable.

 

This silence screams louder than any noise she’s ever heard.


	18. Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Sorry in advance. That's all I can really say.

Life without Cosima passes incredibly slowly. 

 

Even with the odd girl desperately trying to reach out, texting and calling time and time again only to be met by Delphine’s voicemail, the blonde finds herself feeling completely disconnected from her. She ignores all of Cosima’s attempts and slides into a quiet, melancholic haze that seems to stretch out for years. She’s unable to purge that image of Cosima from her mind— a small, sobbing, hopeless pile of bones on the kitchen floor. It hadn’t been the Cosima she knew and yet, it was somehow still her, somehow bore a truth that she had previously been denied. 

 

When Tuesday finally rolls around again, she feigns illness. Her mother senses that it isn’t a twenty-four hour flu like her daughter suggests, but she doesn’t bother pressing the issue. She knows something’s happened with Cosima, can tell by the shattered look that remains a fixture on her daughter’s face throughout the entire week, as well as Cosima’s absence from Delphine’s side and vocabulary. She presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and grants her the privacy that Delphine has only known in her dreams. She can’t stomach seeing Doctor Leekie again right now. She can’t stand to see _her_ , racing through that door like everything is fine when they both know it _just isn’t._ She wonders what Cosima’s holding back. What could possibly be so terrible that it has incited such fear in the bold young girl? 

 

She spends the day in bed, torn between checking her messages and throwing her damn phone out the window. Every time she hears the familiar ‘ping’ of a text alert, her chest tightens just a little bit more until it’s nearly impossible to breathe. There’s probably at least fifty of them by now, not to mention all of the voicemails she’s been too nervous to listen to. Perhaps she’s being cold and ungrateful; Cosima has been patient with her, kind and understanding at every turn, and here she is, ignoring her. But what can she really do if Cosima refuses to talk to her? The only thing she’s certain of is that she can’t continue on like this, not when she knows there’s such a dark and heavy cloud lingering over them. She can’t continue wading through the darkness and relying on blind faith to steer her around the fissures and sinkholes she knows are surrounding her. She can’t pretend like she didn’t witness such a catastrophic meltdown.

 

It’s too much for her.

 

She finally brings herself to reach for her phone to check her most recent texts from Cosima. She hasn’t opened a single one since Cosima started bombarding her with them, the first of which came the morning after she’d left her girlfriend on the kitchen floor. She doesn’t bother reading through them all, only the ones that appear within the screen’s frame.

 

**“Please don’t do this, Delphine.”**

 

**“Can you please just talk to me?”**

 

**“I need to see you.”**

 

**“I’m sorry.”**

 

She takes a deep, shaky breath, staring at the words as they shout back at her through the void. It would be so easy for her to succumb to Cosima. She’s done it so many times before, after all. She’s allowed Cosima to steer her away from the truth, to so blissfully distract her with affection she never knew she craved so badly. Just how many times had she tried to unravel her lover’s truth, only to be shrugged off or diverted? Why couldn’t Cosima just trust her? Why didn’t she understand?

 

She holds down the power button on her phone and waits for the device to shut down in hopes that she’ll be granted the mercy of silence. Instead, every tiny sound is amplified. The fan in the corner of her room screams hurricanes and she races over, roughly tearing the cord from the wall. She slams her window shut to block out the wailing birds and summer sounds. Even still, even with the outside world completely smothered, she can’t escape the sound of her silence— it sounds strangely like an arrthymia, complete with all the shrieking of a cardiac monitor.

 

Two days pass before she brings herself to turn her phone on again. She finishes writing one of her final exams of the school year and waits in front of the school for her mother to come and pick her up. As she waits uneasily, Pauline passes by her and offers her a curious look.

 

“Where is she?” she inquires.

 

Delphine stares at her schoolfriend, bemused.

 

“The girl in the Jeep. The one that always picks you up,” Pauline explains. “I know she always parks way down the street, but I’ve seen you get into her car a bunch of times.”

 

Delphine’s head drops, her eyes fixed on her feet.

 

“Your mom’s picked you up the last few days, though. Is your friend not coming anymore?”

 

Delphine’s mother pulls in front as soon as Pauline finishes speaking. She has no strength to engage, no strength to even fabricate some sort of half-hearted lie. She allows her friend’s concern and curiosity to roll off of her like droplets of rain and she drags her feet all the way to her mother’s car, slipping inside and maintaining her vow of silence as her mother drives home. 

 

She pulls herself up the stairs to her bedroom and fishes her cellphone out of one of her drawers, turning it back on and waiting nervously, uncertain of what will greet her. She’s surprised to learn that she hasn’t received any new texts from Cosima. There is, however, a new voicemail. She contemplates deleting it immediately, but considering it’s the last message Cosima has sent her prior to her apparent silence, she decides to at least listen to it before deleting it. She prepares herself, pressing the button and bringing the device to her ear.

 

_“Hey. It’s me— but you know that already.”_

 

Her voice sounds… _different._ Delphine isn’t quite sure what it is, but it’s nearly unrecognizable to her.

 

_“I’m just calling… I just wanna say… shit.”_

 

She can hear Cosima’s weary sigh and she bites down harshly on her lower lip, clutching the phone a little tighter against her ear.

 

_“I know you’re pissed at me, Delphine. I get it. I know I screwed up. Guess I should have been honest with you from the beginning, huh?”_

 

Delphine smiles ever-so-slightly. At least Cosima is aware of her folly. Perhaps her awareness will present them with another opportunity, will allow them to finally have that conversation. She’s hopeful for about half a second until she hears Cosima’s next words.

 

_“Guess it doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it?”_

 

Cosima’s voice is lead-laced and downtrodden, dragging her smile straight back down with it. It’s replaced by an intense wave of dread that drains the colour from her face. _Why wouldn’t it matter anymore?_ Delphine is suddenly on her feet, pacing anxiously across the layout of her room.

 

_“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… God, I’m sorry for everything. I won’t bother you anymore, okay?”_

 

She can hear the tears in Cosima’s eyes, feel the crack in her voice as it sends tremors through her own soul. She’s shaking so badly now, she nearly drops the phone. A car crash echoes inside of her skull, tires screeching, metal crunching and groaning as two forces collide. It almost drowns out the sweetness of Cosima’s quiet voice as she speaks again.

 

_“Just… just take care of yourself, okay? Please? I need you to take care of yourself.”_

 

With fumbling hands, she dials the brunette’s number as quickly as her fingers will type. It rings and rings and rings, only adding to the wailing in her head. She’s met by Cosima’s voicemail, her cheery voice instructing her to leave a message.

 

“Please answer your phone, Cosima. I… I need you,” she begs.

 

She tries calling three more times that night, but none of her calls make it through and she becomes progressively more anxious, her paranoia growing. Throughout the next week, she somehow ends up switching roles with Cosima; she thought the cheeky girl’s reprieve would fill her with a sense of relief, but she’s dangling on a razor’s edge and she’s unsure of what will happen first— will she cut herself and bleed out, or will she tip over into the abyss? After nearly a week of unacknowledged messages, she holds out for Tuesday. For Leekie. She knows Cosima will be there, that they’ll be unable to avoid each other. She thinks that if she can just _see her_ , somehow this terrible knot of dread in the pit of her stomach will sort itself out. 

 

So she waits.

 

Waits in the waiting room. _Always trapped in the waiting room_. She waits for five o’clock to roll around, for Cosima to come strutting out of Doctor Leekie’s office, but when the door opens and she lifts her head to spy a glimpse of her, she finds someone else entirely walking through the door. Another girl, one with frizzy red ringlets of hair and a timid expression. She tiptoes over to Denise to confirm her next appointment and Delphine is all tidal wave and windstorm, blasting through the door to Leekie’s office before he calls for her. He’s completely startled by her sudden and aggressive presence.

 

“Delphine—”

 

“Cosima isn’t here,” Delphine panics, pacing around Leekie’s office.

 

“No,” he answers, walking over to the door and closing it so that they can begin their session in privacy. “She… she won’t be needing my services anymore, it seems.”

 

She feels sick, the knot of dread contracting harshly. She races over to the garbage bin and throws her head over its rim, emptying her empty stomach. She’s only vaguely aware that she probably looks like a lunatic, like the very thing she’s spent so many months trying to convince this man that she’s not. She can feel all of her progress leave her and she watches as it spews from her mouth into the container beneath her.

 

She doesn’t care so much about the progress.

 

The tiny, plastic bin can keep it for itself. 

 

So long as she can keep Cosima. 

 

“Easy, Delphine. Easy,” Leekie tells her, attempting to soothe her.

 

There’s nothing about the man that’s soothing at all. There’s nothing about him that puts the screeching to a halt or her nerves at ease. He approaches her from behind, attempting to pat her back to relieve some of her anxiety. She roughly shrugs him off, pulling herself away from the garbage container and wiping her mouth with her hand.

 

“What’s happened?” he asks her.

 

“I— I— I…. don’t know,” she stammers, shaking her head.

 

Her eyes are wide and distant, staring off into invisible universes as she tries to regain her bearings and make sense of what is happening. How did she get here? _Where is here?_ Where is this place without Cosima? 

 

“She still hasn’t told you, has she?”

 

The realization is stark for him. She shakes her head again as he leads her back over to the chair, helping to lower her down into its leather comfort. She drops into it and sinks away, his words just more noise as he attempts to reach her. It takes her too long to pull herself back together into a somewhat acceptable state. She spends most of their session completely lost while Leekie tries to guide her back. By the time she leaves, she’s at least able to acknowledge when she’s being spoken to. Leekie’s reluctant to let her leave at all, but she insists that she’s okay, that she just needs to see Cosima. For once, Leekie agrees with her.

 

“Talk to Cosima, Delphine,” he tells her, and it sounds so strange coming from his lips. “She won’t want to, but she needs to. _You_ need to.”

 

Her mother is waiting for her in the parking lot. She demands to be taken to Cosima’s house and she’s surprised by how easily her mother complies. She must sense her daughter’s desperation, her rapidly declining state. She pulls into Cosima’s driveway and agrees to wait in the car while Delphine goes inside. She presses a kiss to her mother’s cheek before making the journey up the steps to the front door. 

 

She doesn’t know why, but she hesitates.

 

She’d been so desperate and now here she is, afraid of what’s waiting on the other side. She’s reminded of the first time she was here, her memory flashing back to Cosima’s birthday party, to her waiting like a fool on the porch for Cosima to come and get her. She had been so nervous, but the second she saw Cosima, it was immediately worth it.

 

Will it feel the same now?

 

Cosima’s mother answers the door, but her usual radiance is dulled. 

 

“Oh. Hello, Delphine,” she greets, surprised. “Cosima told me that you wouldn’t be coming around anymore.”

 

Her eyes seem too heavy for her face and her usual smile is replaced by a frown that doesn’t suit her features at all. The older woman does her best to force a smile, but it’s a weak attempt that culminates in a mere twitch of the corners of her lips. Delphine offers her own nervous smile, shuffling from foot-to-foot under the woman’s weary scrutiny.

 

“Um. Is Cosima... is she…?”

 

She tries to look past the woman into the house to catch a glimpse of the tiny brunette, but there’s no sign of Cosima anywhere. With her Jeep in the driveway, Delphine knows that she’s home and she searches the woman’s face for understanding, silently pleading mercy. Cosima’s mother sighs deeply, torn between two opposing forces, it seems.

 

“I don’t think she’s really up for visitors today, sweet pea,” she says softly, mindful of Delphine’s fragility.

 

“Oh.”

 

Delphine deflates, her lower lip quivering. She doesn’t want to force her way inside, but she’s trapped. How is she supposed to go on like this? How is she supposed to just turn around and leave? How, after everything?

 

 “Maybe… should I just come back tomorrow?” she tries.

 

“We’ll have to see how she feels.”

 

Delphine nods. It isn’t much of an answer, but at least it’s something. Cosima’s mother reaches forward, placing a gentle hand on the young girl’s shoulder, forcing the blonde’s swimming eyes to lift again and meet hers. She offers Delphine a smile, but again, it seems like such a sad thing, like a chore rather than something to be felt.

 

“The last seizure took a lot out of her. She needs to rest.”

 

_Seizure._

 

_S e i z u r e._

 

_S   e   i   z   u   r   e._

 

The word stretches out, filling all of the spaces of her mind which had previously been occupied with blaring static, all of the spaces which had been occupied with joy and fear and love and uncertainty. Only that singular word remains. It commands her heart to stop beating, for her knees to stop working. Her vision begins to blur and before she has time to make sense of what’s happening, she’s on her knees with Cosima’s mother hovering over, calling out to her, trying to pull her back.

 

“She hasn’t told you,” she’s able to discern through the haze.

 

She hears Leekie speak those same words. She sees Sarah’s face at that party. She sees every graceful dodge and tactful play of Cosima’s as she dances around the blonde’s curiosity. She sees it all now, so clearly that nothing else can permeate her field of vision.

 

She wonders how she just didn’t see it before.

 

 

 

 


	19. Dive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Don't blame me. You all wanted to know the truth. So, here's a flashback for you.

It all started with a cough. 

 

A simple, stubborn cough that had rattled in her lungs for weeks on end. Her mother had frowned and suggested a visit to the doctor’s, but she’d insisted that it was nothing, just a cold that was passing through the entire school and her, its latest victim. She was fifteen, after all. Fifteen year olds got sick all the time, but they always bounced back. They were bold and brazen in their immortality, untouchable.

 

It wasn’t until she started coughing up blood that she really began to panic. 

 

She sits atop the doctor’s slab, her feet dangling over the side as she carelessly kicks them through the air, ignoring the crunch of tissue paper that accompanies even the slightest of movements. Her mother and father occupy the two chairs at her side, hand-in-hand, trying to mask their anxiety. She pretends not to see the dread on their faces and instead focuses her attention on the informational posters which adorn the walls of the tiny room. Lung Cancer. Cystic Fibrosis. Bronchitis. Everywhere she looks, anatomically-correct diagrams of faulty lungs glaring back at her.

 

The door creaks open and she redirects her attention to Doctor Nealon, his face as stoic and unnerving as ever. He comes marching into the room with her results under his arm and her parents rise to their feet, awaiting the news. Nealon’s voice is steady as he begins to dive into the specifics.

 

_Polyps._

 

_Extremely rare._

 

_Undiagnosable._

 

Her mother tears up, trying to maintain her composure while Nealon continues to inform them and her father holds her mother tightly. The quirky girl is quiet, her legs still as his words come to her in short, uneven waves. They drift through one ear and out the other, only certain details permeating through the thick wall of her stupor. Apparently there have been other cases similar to her own, though they’ve never been able to make a proper diagnosis and all of their previous attempts to treat it have been met with failure.

 

All of these girls have died.

 

“But there’s a treatment, right?” her mother asks, her desperation palpable. “T-There’s something you can do?”

 

Cosima’s eyes remain fixed on the wall, on a poster with a pair of corroding lungs taunting her. She grips the edge of the cushioned slab, her knuckles burning white as tissue crinkles beneath them.

 

“As of right now, there’s no definitive treatment.”

 

Her mother whimpers, falling into her father and burying a sob into his chest. She holds onto him for support as the entire world crumbles around her. There are tears in her father’s eyes, as well, but he tries to choke them back and comfort his wife. Nealon turns his attention to Cosima, to the source of all of this pain. He regards her carefully, surprised by how levelled and reserved she appears to be in the face of such horrifying news.

 

“We can… there’s medication that can help with some of the symptoms, make you more comfortable,” he tells her.

 

“But this is only going to get worse,” she states.

 

She meets his gaze, her eyes dark and dangerous. It would be so easy for him to lie, to feed her false hope, but her eyes demand the truth. He hesitates before nodding slowly, choosing not to coddle her.

 

“From what we understand of your condition, it starts in the uterus and then spreads to the lungs, which is where you are now,” he begins to explain. “It’s very hard to catch early on and it progresses at a different rate in every case we’ve encountered. Eventually, it spreads to the kidneys, the epithelial tissue…”

 

“And then that’s it. It’s over.”

 

He doesn’t have to spell out the rest. She may only be fifteen, but biology is her strong suit. She’s spent hours hunched over textbooks, absorbing every piece of information that can fit into her brain, detailed diagrams of human anatomy burned into her retinas. It makes sense. She’s going to be a scientist, after all.

 

_Was._

 

She _was going_ to be a scientist. 

 

“We’re always looking into new methods, Cosima,” Nealon speaks, offering up a poor excuse of hope. “A breakthrough could be right around the corner.”

 

“But it’s unlikely.”

 

To that, he says nothing. There’s no certainty in any answer he could possibly give her, so he settles for silence and turns back to her mother and father who are still trying to make sense of such a dark and heavy revelation. 

 

The adults talk.

 

They talk options, statistics. They talk short-term and long-term. They talk battle strategies for wars over kingdoms that can never be conquered. They talk to each other, at each other, for each other.

 

The adults talk.

 

Just not to her.

 

She sits alone and much too far away despite all of them being cramped together in this tiny, windowless room. Their words eventually fade from earshot and all she hears is muted mumbling, like an underwater argument. The more she tries to make sense of it, the less sense it seems to make, so she closes her eyes and allows the tide to carry her somewhere safe and distant, somewhere where the sun kisses her skin all year round and the sand cushions her fall. 

 

She takes a deep breath in.

 

The ocean rattles in her lungs. 

 

Its salt burns behind her eyelids.

 

 

\+ + + + + + + + + +

 

 

His eyes follow her across the room while he patiently sits in his chair, watching each anxious step she takes. She’s at his desk, drumming her fingers along the solid surface, flicking the desk lamp on and off a few times before abandoning it and sauntering over to the far wall. She stares at the painting, cocking her head as she tries to make sense of the mess of paint splatters.

 

“How are you feeling today, Cosima?”

 

“Great. Wonderful. Terrific,” she spits back, her sarcasm pointed. “Aside from the whole “dying” part, everything’s awesome.”

 

It’s strange for her to finally say it. Even knowing the truth, neither her or her parents have actually used the “D” word in conversation. They’ve spent the last couple of weeks dancing around it, just as she spent weeks before dancing around that goddamn cough. Even with the knowledge of her own mortality, she had tried her best to carry on as usual. The very next day after Doctor Nealon’s news she was back in class, watching with listless eyes as Sarah tormented Alison and Tony laughed. During lunch, she picked at her food and tried to smile, nodding along whenever one of them spoke to her, but she couldn’t close the distance she’d placed between herself and her three friends. They were very much aware of it, as well.

 

“What’s going on, Cos?” Sarah had asked, nudging her.

 

She shook her head, dismissing Sarah’s concern.

 

“It’s… nothing,” she sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Doesn’t feel like nothing, yeah?”

 

What was she to say? How was she to say it? She could barely make sense of it herself. Besides, she didn’t really want to burden Sarah and the others with her problems. Sarah was dealing with her own rough patch right now after a fight with her foster mother resulted in her leaving home. Alison’s parents were fighting constantly and threatening divorce, reducing the uptight girl to a pile of uneasy nerves. Tony had it the worst of all, trying to reason with his emotionally abusive parents who weren’t very accepting of his recent transition. What right did she have to plague them with yet another problem? She would tell them eventually, but she needed to sort through it for herself first.

 

That’s what led her here.

 

To help her make sense of all this. To help her cope with it. That’s what her parents had told her, at least. They’d sat her down and told her that this was important, that she needed to talk to someone. She didn’t really have a lot to say, at least not on this matter. What could be said, really?

 

“You’re angry,” Leekie comments, corralling her thoughts.

 

“Yeah. Well, what did you expect?” she scoffs, walking back over to her own seat across from him and dropping down into it. “Do you want me to, like, throw a fucking parade? Or am I supposed to break down and tell you how scared I am?”

 

“You think this is a waste of time.”

 

She laughs, perhaps a little too loudly. She throws her head back and allows her laughter to rack her lungs for a few seconds before she can feel the cough begin to surface. She somehow manages to stifle it before it starts and when she gazes back over to him, he seems unaffected by her laughter. She simply shakes her head, running a hand through her wavy brown locks.

 

“What difference will any of this make?” she asks with a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s all gonna end the same.”

 

With her returned to the stars from whence she came. 

 

She’ll never cross the ocean and explore the wonders of the world. She’ll never get a chance to unlock the mysteries of the human genome, to read her name in Scientific American. She’ll never get to move into some dumpy apartment that she can barely afford while she pushes her way through school, surviving off caffeine and ramen and sheer force of will. 

 

She’ll never get to fall in love. 

 

She’ll never look into another’s eyes and see the entire world reflected back at her. She’ll never hear her name whispered with all the wonder and tenderness that had been intended for her. She’ll never know what it feels like to lose herself completely in another’s smile, in another’s touch. 

 

She never considered herself a romantic, never thought these were things that she’d want, but as she grapples with reality, she finds that this is the most painful truth for her to swallow. All of these rites of passage— all of these things she’s been told her whole life will be waiting for her— they all seem distant and meaningless now. 

 

“I’m here to help you… _transition,_ ” Doctor Leekie explains. “Into the next phase.”

 

“Transition?”

 

She laughs again at the man’s insolence. For a doctor, he lacks both intellect and class. If her being here wasn’t so important to her parents, she’d turn around and walk straight out that door without even bothering to glance behind her.

 

“You mean die.”

 

Once again, he shows no visible reaction to her bluntness. She shifts in her chair and its leather squeaks and sticks beneath her, to her, reminding her that she’s present. Leekie continues to watch her with his reptilian gaze, waiting for her to elaborate, to voice her very clear opinion.

 

“Trust me, dude. I don’t need any help with that,” she dismisses him. “My body seems to have that one covered just fine.”

 

“Have you told anyone yet? Any of your friends?”

 

“No. No, I’m waiting for the right time.”

 

 

 

The ridiculousness of her words suddenly dawns on her and she smiles, shaking her head.

 

“Which sounds kind of stupid now that I say it out loud, because there _is_ no right time for something like this,” she finishes her thought.

 

“That’s understandable,” Leekie nods in agreement. “But it’s important to have a strong foundation when facing such a… a _trial_. You need lots of support, Cosima.”

 

“Yeah,” she absently mumbles.

 

As much as she hates to admit it, she knows that he’s right. She needs to tell her friends. Sarah and Felix and Tony and Alison all have a right to know. It isn’t so much that she wants to purposely keep them in the dark, but she simply doesn’t know how to tell them. The second she does, everything will change. She doesn’t think she can handle that.

 

“I’m sorry, Cosima.”

 

His words pull her from her state of brooding, striking her hard and fast. Her eyes widen and begin to glisten as reality comes flooding in, yet again. How many times has she already heard those three words? How many more times will she hear them?

 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

 

“I don’t want your sympathy,” she snaps back at him, her voice trembling. “I don’t want _anyone’s_ sympathy.”

 

He leans forward in his seat, a curious look upon his face.

 

“What _do_ you want?”

 

She stops herself for a moment to truly consider his words. She realizes that what she wants doesn’t matter anymore, because she’ll never really have it anyway.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she expels. 

 

“Of course it does.”

 

She wants to not be sick. She wants to see the Galapagos Islands. She wants to graduate. She wants to drink too much at her first keg party and spend the next morning hunched over a toilet bowl. She wants a sloppy and magnificent first kiss. She wants her own car so she can drive her friends around. She wants to get her nose pierced. She wants to fall in love. She wants to gaze up at the stars and feel something of consequence. She wants summer. She wants winter. And then she wants summer again. She wants the long, burning days and even longer, cooler nights. She wants the ground beneath her feet and the sky above her head. She wants oceans that stretch on like the depths of space, far beyond her imagination. She wants everything this world has to offer. 

 

She wants…

 

She wants.

 

_She wants._

 

 

\+ + + + + + + + +

 

 

“This is bullshit, Cos. This is… it’s…”

 

Sarah chokes on the words, clamping her eyes shut while tears bite at the corners. Her hands ball into screaming white fists that shake with anger at her sides while Alison sniffles on the sofa, trying her best to keep herself from breaking down completely. Felix absently rubs the prim girl’s back in an attempt to comfort her, but his own thoughts are so very far away, lost in his best friend’s revelation and his own mutual feelings of confusion and despair. Tony remains silent, face buried in his hands as he sits on his own. Not even the loud crash of Sarah’s fist against the wall stirs him from such a state, but Cosima quickly slots herself between the punk and the offending wall to cease her assault.

 

“Please, Sarah,” she says softly, her own eyes stinging. “Please just… _don’t.”_

 

She doesn’t have the strength for this right now. The truth has only really just begun to settle in for her, as well. Of course, she’s had a little more time to attempt to make sense of her sentence, but all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to explain it. Her words manage to pull Sarah from her fit of fury, though. When the young Brit opens her eyes again, Cosima’s are peering right back into hers, the very same expression reflected back.

 

“What do you need from us?” Tony finally speaks, lifting his head from his hands and drawing everyone’s attention over to him. 

 

It’s rare to see the cocky, playful boy so serious. There’s always a crooked smirk upon his face, a drawl to every sarcastic comment he throws out into the world that is on par with her own. The smirk is gone, though. His voice is void of playfulness or sarcasm. He asks the question that no one else has bothered to ask her up until this point. He asks the question that she’d asked him herself only a few months before, when he’d come to the rest of them with the revelation of his gender dysphoria.

 

“Nothing,” she replies. “I just… keep doing what you’re doing.”

 

“Cos—”

 

“I need to know that things aren’t gonna change, Sarah,” Cosima says, cutting her off. “I need this to stay the same.”

 

This is all she has right now. It’s the only thing keeping her tethered. Looking around the room, four terrified faces staring back at her, she realizes that _this_ is what will help her make sense of all of this. _Her family._ She smiles sadly, reaching for Sarah’s hand and gently squeezing.

 

“I need… I need _this.”_

 

Sarah fights back her tears and nods in understanding, squeezing Cosima’s hand in return. Cosima pulls Sarah in even closer until the two of them are tightly embracing. With Sarah’s arms wrapped firmly around her, she finds some small shred of peace. They stand like that for a minute before they both feel more arms wrap around them, Alison and Felix and Tony joining in. A small, broken family finding comfort in each other.

 

“You’re the best of us, you know that?” Sarah whispers into Cosima’s ear.

 

She doesn’t react to Sarah’s words. As they slowly disperse, Tony reaches into his pocket, retrieving a ziplock bag with three perfectly rolled joints. He carefully selects on— the biggest one— holding it up and dangling it before the spectacled girl.

 

“Now that that’s settled,” he says with a cheeky grin “I’ve got a nice, fat joint with your name on it, Cos.”

 

Cosima giggles. She’s hardly in a position to deny Tony, especially when he forces the joint between her lips and brings his lighter up to spark it to life. Felix and Sarah giggle, too, nearly forgetting their tears. The second she pulls the smoke into the chamber of her lungs, she feels them begin to quiver and burn.

 

_Good._

 

“Is that really appropriate?” Alison huffs, ever the overbearing and disapproving mother.

 

Cosima shrugs, expelling a few deep coughs as she passes the joint back to Tony. She flashes Alison a toothy grin, attempting to quell her worry.

 

“Hey, come on,” she replies. “What’s it gonna do? _Kill me?_ ”

 

She laughs at her own joke. The others are quick to join in, though their laughter is less certain than her own, more contained. Their laughter treads while hers explodes, because what choice does she have other than to throw herself into it headfirst? What choice does she have other than to dive? 

 

What choice does she have at all?

 

 


	20. Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Hey guys! I'm going away for the weekend and I wanted to get this chapter up before I left. It's another flashback and I hope you guys enjoy it. I look forward to seeing what you all think when I get back. Cheers! :)

She meanders through the large parking lot, taking note of the expensive cars surrounding her, anxiety bubbling in her chest as she continues to bide her time and wait for her moment. She’s spent the last couple of hours wandering aimlessly through the rows of parked cars and she silently hopes that no one has alerted security, especially after her scene in the waiting room; she’d attempted to reason with the stubborn receptionist who’d refused her a meeting with Doctor Nealon because she didn’t have an appointment. She’d argued that it was important and that it couldn’t wait, but the irritated woman simply told her to make an appointment and come back another day, or else head to the closest emergency room. Frustrated and defeated, she’d stormed away, making sure to kick over the insufferable ficus that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

 

She makes her way back around toward the front of the building, checking the time on her cell phone. Doctor Nealon should come pouring out any minute now, his work done for the day. Instead of giving that horrible woman the satisfaction of making an appointment, she’d opted to hang around until she could catch Doctor Nealon herself. Besides, she couldn’t afford to wait a few days to see him. She needed to speak with him _now._ Her phone pings to life with the sound of a text alert and she smiles as Delphine’s name is displayed on her screen.

 

**What are you doing right now?**

 

**I’m out. Just taking care of a few things,** she responds.

 

**Oh.**

 

She doesn’t need to be standing in front of Delphine to hear the disappointment in her voice. It’s Friday and the blonde will be starting school again on Monday after her hiatus. She knows Delphine is nervous and most likely in need of some comfort.

 

**How about a night of mayhem and mystery? ;)**

 

**And what does that entail?**

 

**Well, it wouldn’t be a mystery if I told you, would it?** she types, laughing quietly to herself.

 

**Sure.**

 

Cosima lights up, her mood instantly improving as she twirls in excitement, her fingers speedily typing a reply.

 

**Awesome! I’ll shoot you a text when I’m all done here. I’ll pick you up.**

 

**Can’t wait :)**

 

“Cosima?”

 

She looks up from her phone, startled to see the man of the hour standing before her with a look of confusion spread across his face. She quickly tucks her phone back into her pocket and takes a step closer.

 

“Uh, hey,” she replies, doing her best to offer Doctor Nealon a smile.

 

“You must be the young lady Catherine told me about. The one who kicked over the plant and made a scene in the waiting room,” he slowly pieces it together, almost amused at her brashness. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah. I guess,” she nods. “I… I don’t really know.”

 

He cocks his head, waiting for her to elaborate, briefcase heavy in his hand. She shuffles from foot-to-foot, equal parts nervous and embarrassed to ask the question that’s been burning inside of her for the last few days, that fire erupting into a full-blown inferno in just the last couple of hours.

 

“I was wondering if you could… maybe… run some more tests?” she hesitantly inquires.

 

“Why? Has you condition worsened?” he responds immediately.

 

“No, no, no. It’s not that,” she back-pedals, attempting to ease his worry. “It’s the opposite, really.”

 

“I’m… not following you.”

 

She sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair as she wracks her mind for the proper words to explain it, to verbalize this feeling inside of her without him thinking she’s gone absolutely insane. She feels optimistic. She feels _powerful_. She feels like the illness which has been eating at her for the past year and a half has suddenly vanished.

 

“I feel… I feel great. Really good. Better than I have since I found out I was sick,” she begins. “I mean, I’m breathing a lot better, I haven’t had a major fit or anything and it’s been weeks since I’ve coughed up any blood. And I don’t feel as tired, either. I feel like I have way more energy, like I did before.”

 

“That’s good,” Nealon agrees.

 

“Yeah, I know,” she mumbles. “So… I was wondering if you could run those tests?”

 

Nealon’s expression grows more serious. He places his briefcase on the ground at his side and shifts until he’s seemingly taller, more authoritative than most other people she’s been exposed to.

 

“And what are you expecting to find?”

 

She can tell by the look on his face that he thinks she’s being a naive. Maybe she is, but how can she ignore what her entire body is telling her? How can he possibly know better than she does when it comes to this?

 

“I don’t know. Maybe this thing has… maybe it’s just… gone away?” she tries.

 

He expels a deep, regretful sigh.

 

“Cosima—”

 

“I know it sounds crazy, but these things happen all the time!” she interrupts him, refusing to allow him to finish the line that she’s already heard far too many times to count. “Miracles or whatever. Maybe my body’s healed itself or something. Maybe I’m getting better.”

 

“Cosima, we’ve been over this. I thought I was very clear,” he replies, his voice stern.

 

She nods rapidly, doing her best to blink back the tears that are beginning to form behind her eyes.

 

“No, you were. This thing is terminal. I get that,” she acknowledges. “But maybe something’s changed?”

 

“It’s very unlikely,” he deadpans.

 

Her head drops and her breath catches in her chest. She doesn’t want to cry in front of this man, but he’s managed to singlehandedly shatter whatever hope she had left. Maybe Doctor Nealon is right. Maybe she’s being childish and she just needs to accept her fate. She thought she’d had, but things have been different, things have _felt_ different ever since…

 

“I’ll run some tests if you’d like, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Nealon concedes.

 

She looks up at him again, this time with a wide smile.

 

 

\+ + + + + + + + +

 

 

She watches as Delphine slips out of passenger side, nearly skipping all the way to the front door. She turns to offer Cosima one last smile and wave before she disappears inside. Cosima lingers in the driveway for a moment, her own smile fixed in place until she’s certain that Delphine is really gone. That’s when it finally evaporates. She leans forward, resting her forehead against the steering wheel as she takes a few deep breaths. 

 

Delphine had kissed her.

 

It had only been on the cheek, _but still._

 

When the French girl had climbed into her Jeep and told her all about her terrible first day back at school, about the rumours that had spread and how she’d locked herself in the bathroom to get away from it all, the tiny brunette felt her heart being crushed in a vice. She’d really thought that Delphine could handle it herself and with each word that left Delphine’s mouth, she felt more tears building behind her eyes. Then Delphine had told her that she was right, that everything had  sort of worked out in the end, that she was able to pull herself back up onto her own two feet. Even with this revelation, Cosima couldn’t shake the guilt, the heartache that came from knowing Delphine was suffering.

 

_But then Delphine had kissed her._

 

She removes her head from the steering wheel, her thoughts composed again. She pulls out of the driveway and begins driving, her head swimming in a pool of muted static all the way to the office, blocking out everything else. The only thing she’s aware of is immediate traffic, the tingling sensation still strong on her cheek and the steady thumping of her own heart. She bypasses the obnoxious receptionist who glares at her as she marches through the doors into Nealon’s office, actually arriving on time for an appointment for perhaps the first time in her short life. She waits impatiently, her heart screaming thunder in her ears as Doctor Nealon shuffles through his files, searching for hers. When he finally retrieves it, she finds herself unable to swallow or breathe or even think properly.

 

“I have your results.”

 

“Yeah? What do they say?”

 

Is she right? She must be right. She _knows_ she’s right. She’s right because she _has_ to be right, because Delphine still needs her, because she can’t allow this thing to swallow her. She’s right because she needs Delphine. She’s right because she _loves her._ And when you love someone, everything is right.

 

_Right?_

 

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know.”

 

His tone is somber, his face even more so. In combination, they shatter the safe illusion she’s spent the past several weeks building for herself and the drive over reinforcing. She almost can’t believe it, but he hands her the charts so she can see for herself and she accepts them with a trembling hand and sweaty palms. She’s no expert, but even a single glance allows her to concur with Nealon’s conclusion. 

 

“Your numbers don’t appear to be dropping too rapidly, if that’s any sort of consolation,” he tells her. “But those in the back are the results from the tests we ran about three months ago and the ones you’re looking at now are your most recent ones.”

  
She flips back and forth between the two, watching the slow progression from bad to worse. She’d expected to see a scan of clear lungs, or elevated numbers. Instead, the shadows in the picture are more pronounced and her levels are on a slow but steady decline. It all begins to jumble, the numbers swirling, the scans pixilating until her vision is blurred and she’s unable to make sense of what she’s reading anymore. 

 

“But… but I was _so sure_ ,” she whimpers.

 

She drops the results onto the floor, watching as each piece of paper slides away from her, never reacting. Nealon doesn’t react immediately, either. He watches Cosima with a fixed gaze, uncertain of how to proceed.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

 

She nods out of habit, but they both know that’s simply not true. She’s had a year and a half to make sense of this, to come to terms with her sentence. After therapy and the support of Sarah and the others, she was convinced she had. Sure, she didn’t _want_ to die, but she’d made peace with it. She had no choice. She’d accepted that this was apart of some grander scheme that was beyond her understanding and was prepared to move on.

 

Until she met Delphine.

 

Everything changed that day in the waiting room and as she grew closer to the extraordinary girl, she found that “peace” she’d fabricated for herself slowly unraveling. If she couldn’t have the world for herself, then she wanted it for Delphine. She wanted everything for her. She found all of her selfish and childish and insatiable desires returning to her, because she wanted to be a part of that world, too— a world where the two of them could eat ice cream in her car or drive around town without a storm threatening to break at any second.

 

_She wanted it all._

 

 

“Perhaps I should call your parents,” Nealon offers.

 

“N-No,” she speaks, her voice cracking. “It’s fine.”

 

She’s darting out of Doctor Nealon’s office, hiding her face so no one can see her budding distress. He calls out to her, but his world are an undecipherable garble of jumbled words. She can even feel the horrible receptionist’s glare falter, but she pays it no mind. She keeps going, going, going until she reaches the safety of her car. Only then does she allow the heaving sobs to rip through her chest.

 

It isn’t supposed to happen like this.

 

 

\+ + + + + + + + + +

 

 

She’s unable to drag herself from her bed. She misses her appointment with Leekie, but it hardly seems to matter to her anymore anyway. Even as her phone pings incessantly, she can’t find the strength to lift herself over to her desk to retrieve it. She knows it’s Delphine, that she’s probably worried and alone, but at this point, she isn’t sure if she’s helping or harming the young blonde she’s become so smitten with. Delphine deserves everything. She deserves a real life with a real chance, not whatever shitty, momentary illusion that Cosima can offer her. She was stupid to think that maybe things could be different. How can you possibly think of the future when the reaper has an arm on your shoulder?

 

“Cosima, what’s going on?” her mother finally asks, quietly slipping into her room on the third day of her bed-in.

 

She turns over onto her side, facing away from her mother. The bed shifts when the older woman takes a seat on the edge, softly running her hand through her daughter’s hair. Cosima’s lip quivers as she hugs her blankets closer to herself.

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” her mother coos. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“It’s not,” Cosima mutters in response.

 

Her mother’s hand freezes. She doesn’t know what to say to her daughter’s harshness, too afraid for the both of them to truly acknowledge it.

 

“You’re not alone, Cosima,” she tells her daughter. “That’s the important thing. You’re not alone.”

 

As if on cue, her phone pings again with another text alert. Her mother smiles, walking over to the desk to pick up the phone.

 

“See? Someone wants to talk to you,” she says. “I bet it’s that girl you like.”

 

“Stop it, mom. Please.”

 

“Cosima, she’s left you so many messages,” her mother replies, checking her daughter’s phone and growing increasingly concerned.

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It matters to _her.”_

 

Cosima turns back around, finally facing her mother. The woman hands her the phone and encourages her to read the slew of ignored text messages. The young girl is unsure if she wants to, if she can even bring herself to. The sheer amount of them hints that something is wrong, that Delphine is fixated and most likely in need of someone to talk her down.

 

“I… I’m only going to make things worse,” she tries to explain to her mother.

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Not at all, honey,” her mother lovingly argues with a teary smile. “You haven’t made things worse at all.”

 

“How can you say that?” 

 

“Well, look at how much better you’ve made things for your friend. She really cares about you, Cosima,” she tucks a piece of hair behind Cosima’s ear. “We all do. You've made things so, so, _so_ much better for all of us.”

 

She opens the unread messages, scrolling up to the top and reading them in order. With each one, she can see Delphine’s descent and the guilt begins to bubble in her chest all over again. She promised Delphine she’d be there for her. She promised _herself_ that she’d be there for Delphine. But what happens when she’s not? What happens on the day when her lungs and her heart finally give out? When happens when Delphine realizes she’s nothing more than a liar with a premature expiry date?

 

**Did I make a mistake?**

 

She sits up in her bed, focused on that singular phrase. Her mother decides to give her some privacy, vanishing once again. How could Delphine possibly think that? How could she think she’s done anything wrong? How could she think that that simple, stupid kiss was anything less than perfect?

 

**I’m sorry.**

 

She panics, her fingers flying over the keys at top speed. As much as it hurts, she can’t have Delphine thinking this is her fault. If anyone’s the fuck up, if anyone’s the one who deserves to be sitting in Leekie’s office, it’s her. She won’t give the blonde more fuel to set herself on fire with.

 

**Hey! Sorry for going AWOL.**

 

As soon as the message sends, she nervously waits for a response. The speed at which it comes brings a smile to her face again for the first time in days. She’s able to forget about Doctor Nealon and his results and her traitor body.

 

**Are you okay?** Delphine asks.

 

She answers as honestly as she can.

 

**Better now :-)**

 


	21. Sink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** God, this was such a hard chapter for me to write. I don't really have anything to say other than I'm extremely grateful for your continued support of this project, for all the love and the comments you guys send my way. Much love, guys.

There’s a thickness to the air, a newfound weight that hangs and lines her lungs with lead, choking the oxygen from her brain. Her mother is there now, pulling her from the ground with the help of Cosima’s mother. Both women grab her under the arms and guide her back to her feet, supporting her while her muscles take a moment to remember their duty. Even when she’s standing again, they maintain a firm grip, afraid that if they let go, she’ll go break apart and melt away. 

 

She’s ushered inside, into the living room and they sit her down on one of the couches. The two woman talk lowly to each other, their words reduced to nothing more than background static, like the buzzing of a fridge or the humming of an air conditioner unit. She’s unable to make sense of it, but she knows it’s there, can guess the conversation, tread in and out of their strange language like a visitor. While the adults speak, her gaze remains fixed straight ahead, perhaps on the wall or the large tapestry of an elephant that hangs from it, though she’s not entirely sure herself. Her eyes are incapable of truly focusing on anything in particular. When Cosima’s mother crouches down in front of her, she blinks a few times in an attempt to adjust her vision but the woman’s edges remain blurred and undefined.

 

“She’s upstairs. Go on,” she says softly, patting the young girl on the knee and offering her a restrained smile. “She’ll be happy to see you.”

 

She somehow finds the strength to nod and rise to her feet again as she’s slowly drawn toward the stairs by some unseeable force. Each step is a gamble that’s accentuated by the groaning and creaking of wood; she’s so heavy now, she fears her full weight will be enough to send her crashing through the stairs, farther down into some shroud of darkness that she knows so well. She’s slow and methodical as she ascends them, careful not to upset whatever very fine balance remains. As she closes in on the door to Cosima’s bedroom, her vision shrinks and tunnels. She has to stop herself before reaching for the knob, remind herself that she’s present, remind herself to breathe through the lead and break through. With all the courage she can muster, she inhales deeply and opens the door as quietly as possible.

 

She steps hesitantly into Cosima’s room, into this sacred space that she’s safeguarded in her mind. Her eyes immediately land on her love, tucked away so small in her bed with her eyes closed. Drax is nestled at her side and her glasses lay resting on the nightstand while a cannula caresses her face and her dresser drawer hangs open, revealing rows of pill bottles— some tall, some short— some nearly empty and others freshly prescribed. She’s pale, her chest slowly rising and falling and rattling with every breath. The blonde inhales sharply at the sight, barely managing to catch the sob before it starts. Even still, the noise is enough to rouse Cosima from her sleep. Her lids slowly lift and she blinks the exhaustion away. It takes her a moment to realize someone else is in the room but as soon as she does, she squints in the blonde’s direction. Recognition flashes across her features and she smiles, closing her eyes once again.

 

“Are you real?” 

 

Her voice is quiet, small, lacking the life it usually contains. Delphine’s hand shoots up to cover her mouth, though she’s unable to hold back the sob this time and it wracks through her once, twice, three times. She’s able to catch it on the forth and she tries her best to force a smile, to hold her sorrow back behind a pearl prison, though at this rate, she’s certain her teeth will crack beneath its devastating power, leaving yet another empty hole in her head.

 

“It’s me,” she confirms, mouth dry and voice cracking.

 

Cosima’s smile only grows and it’s simultaneously the sweetest and saddest thing she’s ever seen. She opens her eyes once again and it’s as if she’s seeing the blonde for the very first time.

 

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice thick and scratchy.

 

She tries her best to sit up in her bed but Delphine darts over, reaching out towards her.

 

“D-Don’t— don’t move,” she insists.

 

She never makes contact though. She _wants to_ , wants to push Cosima back down on the bed so that she won’t strain herself, but she’s afraid that even the briefest of touches will be enough to crack the fragile figure before her.

 

“It’s okay,” Cosima speaks, sensing Delphine’s hesitation. “I’m okay.”

 

Delphine shakes her head. She shakes it so furiously she can feel the hurricane blowing past her, her tears like biting rain, slicing flesh at top speed until she finds her skin stripped away and whatever’s living beneath completely exposed to the elements.

 

“No,” she chokes.” You’re not.”

 

Cosima’s smile immediately vanishes. 

 

“I’m not.”

 

Delphine falls to her knees, dropping to the side of Cosima’s bed and grabbing the smaller girl’s hand. She buries her face in it as she tries to reign in her emotions, to rebuild her composure so the two of them can have an actual conversation. She sniffles, wiping her swollen eyes and lifting her head again. Cosima is staring down at her, her own tears silent but prominent. 

 

“What… _why?”_ Delphine asks, hoping Cosima will understand the question she’s desperate yet too afraid to ask.

 

Cosima smiles through her tears. She squeezes Delphine’s hand gently, then entangles their fingers together just like they have so many times before.

 

“Do you remember that day in my car? The day your mom was late and I waited with you?”

 

Delphine nods. She remembers that day _too_ well. That’s when she first realized that she could trust Cosima, that Cosima cared about her. Everything changed for her that day. Everything has _continued_ to change since that day.

 

“You asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up,” Cosima continues. “Nobody’s asked me that in... God, I don’t remember how long.”

 

She laughs, though the French girl fails to find the humour in her words.

 

“I used to get tired of it, used to think that people were just trying to force their bullshit standards onto me, but now? It’s kind of nice, pretending to have a future. It was… it was nice pretending to have one with you.”

 

Delphine whimpers, pulling herself even closer to Cosima, pulling herself up onto the bed completely, desperate for contact and _some_ sort of comfort, however false or naive it may be. She slots herself in next to Cosima just like she has so many times before, but this time is different. The fit isn’t _quite_ right. There are tubes in the way, the thinnest of barriers and yet, still a barrier. 

 

“I was never pretending,” Delphine whispers. 

 

She rests her head in the crook of Cosima’s neck and the brunette nods.

 

“I know you weren’t.”

 

Cosima brings a hand to stroke Delphine’s hair and cradle her head, softly cooing and hushing her until the blonde is finally able to speak again.

  
“I— I said all those things and made you all those promises... all without _knowing,”_ she sobs. _“_ If I had, Cosima—”

 

“You wouldn’t have made them.”

 

She wails.

 

Not because Cosima is right, but because she couldn’t be more wrong.

 

She’d do it all again in a heartbeat. In a dozen lifetimes, she’d find Cosima and she’d do it all over again because she simply can’t imagine a different story, one without the two of them together. She’d do it all again and it may end the same way, but it’d still be glorious.

 

_“I’m so sorry”_ she keens, trapped in a spiral of her own grief. _“Je suis désolée… Je suis désolée…”_

 

“Hey— Hey—”

 

Her words pull Delphine from her fit and she frames her lover’s face with her hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. She coaxes Delphine to meet her gaze and once she does, she offers her a smile.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” she tells her. “I was happy, when you were making promises to me. I never felt cheated or anything like that. You understand?”

 

Delphine nods, chewing on her lower lip. She tilts her head until she catches one of Cosima’s thumbs with her mouth, pressing a kiss to the pad of the digit before drawing it in very slightly and sucking.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Cosima whispers. “I know I should have, but I—”

 

She stops herself. Even now, she can’t bring herself to actually say it. She catches herself, stumbles over her own hypocrisy and laughs at her foolishness.

 

“I guess I’m just another hypocrite, huh?”

 

 “No, no,” Delphine breathes.

 

She presses their foreheads together and they both sigh at the contact, their eyes fluttering closed and their noses brushing. For the briefest of moments, everything feels normal again. They’re allowed a brief reprieve in the tidal wave of grieve, a moment free from the undertow to breathe each other in.

 

_“Tu es mon amour,”_ Delphine tells her.

 

She closes the hair’s distance between them with a soft yet solid kiss. She’s met by chapped but pliant lips and it’s awkward at first with Cosima’s cannula in the way, but it only takes a second for her to adjust before the feel of Cosima’s lips against her own render the apparatus a distant memory.

 

“I’m glad you’re here now,” Cosima tells her.

 

“Of course I’m here.”

 

She brings her head to rest upon Cosima’s chest, far too conscious of the static that screams inside of her lungs. It’s the very same static that rattles around inside of her head and she finds her heart beating different upon recognizing this. Cosima softly strokes her hair and they lay like that for so many brief lifetimes until the blonde notices that Cosima’s chest is heaving more rapidly than before. Worried and confused, she lifts her head to investigate, only to find Cosima’s eyes glossy and spilling over with tears, trying her best to fight the tug in her chest.

 

“I was scared I wouldn’t see you again before I—” she confesses, her lip quivering. “I thought I ruined it, Delphine. I thought I—”

 

“Shhh, _mon amour.”_ Delphine coos, showering Cosima’s face with kisses. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

 

They hold each other, brushing away tears and kissing away the scars that run much deeper, the ones that can’t be seen but burn and pulsate and plague their young existence. They lay in such a state, like two caged birds nestled close to one another, singing only for each other, until Cosima grows completely still and the summer sky grows dark. There’s a gentle knocking at the door and suddenly, the singing stops.

 

Her mother has to nearly tear her away from Cosima’s side. She wants to stay, insists on staying, but Cosima is so tired that she’s unable to keep her eyes open for very long to assist her in the battle. Cosima’s mother suggests going home to get some rest and returning in the morning, reasoning that it would be more comfortable for the both of them. She isn’t sure if she believes it,  but she presses one last kiss to Cosima’s sleeping brow and follows her mother out to the car anyway. 

 

Their ride home is silent. 

 

There are many times when her mother opens her mouth to speak, but she quickly reconsiders her words and shuts it without uttering a single syllable, knowing better. They pull into the driveway and they both step out of the car, Delphine breezing by her, her system stuck on autopilot.

 

_“Ça va, Delphine?”_

 

Her mother’s words roll off her like a bead of rain down a windshield before it’s absently wiped away, nothing more than a hindrance on a journey.

 

“Delphine?”

 

She pushes through the front door and kicks off her shoes once she’s inside, not bothering to set them neatly aside like she’s been taught since childhood. Her mother is forgiving and she watches as her daughter begins her robotic ascent up the stairs.

 

“If you need me, I’ll be right down here, okay?” 

 

She reaches the top of the staircase and freezes. 

 

Instead of disappearing into her bedroom, she turns, noticing that the door to her parents’ room is left slightly ajar. She takes a step in its direction, her head foggy and eyes glazed over. The last time she ventured through that threshold, _all of this had started._ The last time, she’d slipped inside quietly with no clear goal in mind, passing through their bedroom and into their private bathroom. She finds herself retracing those very same steps, struck by a case of deja vu as she flicks on the light to the bathroom. 

 

She blinks, her eyes adjusting to the lighting, quickly scanning her surroundings. Two toothbrushes rest in a holder atop the sink, as well as a tube of toothpaste and her father’s razor blade. Her gaze lingers on it for a moment before she closes in and braces herself on the sink, feedback screeching in her head. She closes her eyes, tries to steady her breathing and shake it away, but it only seems to grow louder. When she lifts her head again, her eyes lock with her own in the cabinet mirror.

 

It all started in this room, in this cabinet, _in this mirror._

 

She’d reached forward and the cabinet had popped open easily enough. That tiny, unassuming bottle was standing right in front of her, staring her down, screaming at her— the only noise that pierced the static. She reaches forward this time, reaches out towards herself, but instead of opening the cabinet, she presses her hand to the coolness of the glass until her palm lay flat against it, fingers spread as wide as they can go. She manages to block out her own reflection— almost. She catches a glimpse of herself through one of the gaps between her fingers, catches her own eye, and everything else drops off.

 

A crack.

 

That’s all she’s aware of. 

 

Somewhere in the swirling haze, she draws her hand back, winding it up before throwing it forward again with all the strength and momentum she can muster. The glass breaks easily enough, shards breaking off and digging in and _cutting_ and _erasing._ She feels a deep, pulsating warmth spread down her arm and trickle to the floor in a violent burst of red and a moment later, her body joins the growing river. She sits in it, basks in its warmth for a moment as the noise dies out, a weak smile on her face. She decides to focus on the dark spots this time rather than the noise— rather than the sound of her mother’s screams as she grabs a towel off the rack and holds it tightly to her arm.

 

She allows herself to sink away.

 

 


	22. Inertia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Sorry! This one took longer than planned. Writing this fic can be emotionally exhausting, so I hope you'll forgive the lateness. Anyway, it's eight o'clock in the morning and I haven't been to sleep yet, so I'm gonna crash. Hopefully things aren't _quite_ as painful? Maybe? Just a little?

The only thing she’s aware of anymore is the dull, throbbing sensation in her tightly-bandaged arm as her mother buzzes around the room in hysterics, her words flying out at a mile a minute. The doctor— a woman this time— watches her with a furrowed brow and nods as she’s bombarded by a mother’s panic. The young girl’s eyes drift around the room, unable to focus on one particular thing. Her eyes still feel heavy, though she feels her wit and energy slowly beginning to return to her. She shifts in the uncomfortable bed, frowning as her mother’s tangent continues with no end in sight.

 

“It was an accident,” she interrupts, finally finding words again.

 

The doctor looks beyond her mother to acknowledge her, interest piqued by the blonde’s claim. Her mother’s head whips around, but there’s no curiosity in her eyes. She isn’t interested in hearing what Delphine has to say. Her eyes are dark and unstable as she stares at her daughter, quivering with fear and anger and desperation.

 

“Quiet now!” she snaps. “It was no accident!”

 

She’s heard that excuse too many times before. Only now is she beginning to realize the depth of her daughter’s problems, to recognize the truth for what it is. Delphine sits up a little straighter in the bed, a look of defiance flashing across her face.

 

“It was!”

 

At least, she _thinks_ it was. She isn’t entirely sure how she feels, why she did what she did. She certainly hadn’t _meant_ for any of this to happen. She hadn’t wandered into her parents’ bedroom with the intention of hurting herself. She doesn’t even know why she went in there in the first place. The more she tries to draw on her memories, the more elusive they become.

 

“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she mutters beneath her breath, head dropping in shame. 

 

None of this was supposed to happen. 

 

Not like this.

 

Here she is, once again. She wonders what will happen to her now. Will they send her away this time? Will they make her take the medication? _Does she even care?_ It doesn’t seem to matter, not when Cosima is…

 

“Why were you in there at all, Delphine?” her mother asks. “You know you’re not supposed to go into our room!”

 

She tries to take a deep breath to steady herself against the tide of her mother’s panic, but her lungs quake and she can already feel the tears stinging at her eyes. She shakes her head, tries to shake the guilt and the confusion away, to reset herself like some sort of etch-a-sketch and return to a time of childhood simplicity when promise was abound. She should know better. It’s too late for such notions, she knows better than to cling to such childish ideas. 

 

_Even still…_

 

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t know what happened,” she confesses, her voice trembling. “I was with Cosima and then we were in the car and then everything is just… _gone_.”

 

Doctor Young slowly steps forward, past her mother and towards the bed, careful not to make her presence too invasive.

 

“You don’t remember going into your parents’ bedroom at all?” she asks softly.

 

Delphine shakes her head, chewing firmly on her lower lip.

 

“Why can’t she remember? What does that mean?” her mother asks.

 

“Well, it sounds like Delphine experienced some sort of stress-induced blackout,” the doctor replies. “Sometimes— especially in individuals who suffer from anxiety disorders— the brain just… shuts down. In the face of severe emotional trauma, it doesn’t know how to respond to or process that trauma.”

 

Doctor Young continues on, continues explaining the specifics to her mother while Delphine inevitably ends up tuning the conversation out. All she can think of is Cosima. What time is it, anyway? She promised Cosima that she would be back in the morning and if it isn’t morning already, she knows it must be close.

 

“I want to see Cosima.”

 

The two older woman stop mid-conversation. The doctor looks confused, but her mother’s nostrils flare with a burst of anger.

 

“You don’t need Cosima right now, Delphine,” her mother retorts, her voice harsh and steady.

 

“That’s your girlfriend, right?” Doctor Young asks. “The one who’s—”

 

She stops herself before she finishes the sentence, noticing the slight shift in the blonde’s demeanour. With a trembling hand, Delphine reaches for the IV in her arm, tugging it out in one, swift motion and nearly knocking over the stand. She’s oblivious to the pain, adrenaline rushing through her.

 

“I want to see Cosima!”

 

Her mother rushes over to her bedside, placing a hand on her chest and forcing her back down into the bed when she tries to throw her feet over the side. She struggles against her mother, struggles to break free from the medicine and the sutures and these four white walls and these doctors with their calculated words, from her mother, from herself, from everything’s she felt in the last twenty-four hours and everything she doesn’t feel, everything she _can’t_ feel. 

 

She struggles.

 

“Maybe you can talk some sense into her, since she clearly won’t listen to me!” her mother barks at the doctor. “Tell her she needs to rest! Tell her she doesn’t need to see Cosima right now!”

 

Delphine sobs, withdrawing her arms and holding herself. How can her mother not see it? How can she not understand? 

 

“If Cosima makes her feel safe, then seeing her might not be such a bad idea.”

 

Doctor Young’s words surprise both of the Cormier women. Delphine catches herself mid-sob, offering the woman a bewildered glance which then shifts over to her mother as she attempts to gauge her reaction to the doctor’s advice. Her mother steps away, steps closer to the other woman and Doctor Young lowers her voice, speaking for her mother’s ears alone.

 

“Delphine is going through a difficult time right now. It’s important that she feels safe. It’s important that she feels like she has some sort of stability. If Cosima can give her that, then—”

 

“What can Cosima possibly give her?” her mother cries out. “She’ll be dead before long! _What then?_ ”

 

Silence befalls the room and she’s swimming again, swimming in a sea of tar that leaves her blind and deaf and dumb. Somewhere amongst the thickness, Doctor Young pulls her mother aside, out of the room so they can speak more privately, and she’s left alone again to wade through her this total sensory deprivation. She isn’t sure how much time passes in this place, or if any time passes at all. She doesn’t know whether or not she’s truly conscious. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore anyway.  

 

.

 

“Delphine!”

 

She springs up in the bed, her attention snapping over to the door, over to where she finds Cosima. The brunette is confined to a wheelchair, but she doesn’t allow that or the oxygen tank to deter her. With impressive speed given her condition, she flies out of the chair, dragging her oxygen tank behind her. She latches onto Delphine, holding the quivering blonde tightly while Delphine’s father looks on from the doorway, having pushed Cosima all the way to his daughter’s hospital room. 

 

“You’re here,” Delphine whimpers into Cosima’s chest, clutching her love closely.

 

She doesn’t know why, but it doesn’t seem possible. If she didn’t have the cheeky girl in such a tight grip, she’d doubt that she was real. But Cosima _is_ here. Wheelchair and oxygen tank and all. Her father smiles very subtly and turns to leave, giving the girls some privacy.

 

“Duh. Of course I’m here,” Cosima replies, her laughter masking her sniffles as she wards off her own tears.

 

They hold each other for a little longer before Cosima pulls away so she can gaze into the blonde’s eyes. She cups her girlfriend’s face in her hands, her thumbs gently brushing over Delphine’s cheekbones, wiping away the dampness.

 

“What happened, Delphine?” she finally asks, her brow furrowed with worry. “Your mom said—”

 

“Don’t listen to her,” Delphine interrupts, immediately severing her train of thought.

 

There’s no sense in going down this road. What difference will it make? What will it really prove? Cosima lowers her gaze, lowers it until it falls on Delphine’s bandaged arm. Her lower lip trembles again and she reaches out towards the covered wound, only her hand stops, hesitating before she can touch it.

 

“This… _this is my fault_ ,” she concludes, her voice low and trembling as tears find her eyes once again.

 

“No— no! It’s not!” Delphine insists.

 

She shakes her head wildly to emphasize her point and reaches forward, slipping her hand into Cosima’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She delicately brushes her thumb over Cosima’s hand, just as she has a thousand times before. 

 

 “This… it’s _my_ fault, Cosima. It’s always been my fault.”

 

“Your dad called and I— I was so scared, Delphine,” she confesses, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

 

She abandons Cosima’s hand momentarily to bring her own to the brunette’s face, cupping it gently and brushing away a few vagrant tears with the pad of her thumb just as Cosima had done for her before. She lifts her eyes to meet Cosima’s and her chest constricts painfully, her lip begins to tremble all over again.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Cosima leans forward, pressing her forehead to the blonde’s. 

 

“I need you to be okay, Delphine,” she whispers, low enough that Delphine can barely catch it.

 

“It’s… it’s such a waste,” Delphine mutters, her innards aching. “ _I’m_ such a waste.”

 

Her body shakes, buckling beneath the weight of her reality. Her mother’s words echo in her head, ricocheting off the walls of her skull. Cosima wastes no time pressing her lips to the damaged girl’s, silencing her self-pity with a kiss. Delphine sighs into the gesture, her eyelids fluttering.

 

_“What can Cosima possibly give her?”_

 

Cosima gives her _this—_ a brief moment of light and clarity— a kiss, a touch, a smile to soothe the static. Cosima gives her everything— every breath she can muster, all the strength left in her failing body. And what does she give Cosima? What does she give her, other than a heart full of worry and vision blurred by tears? What could she possibly give her young love that would even compare to all that she’s taken? She’d rip out her lungs right now if she could, offer them both as a tribute to Aphrodite. Even then, it wouldn’t be enough. Her goddess is a gluttonous one, her appetite ravenous, and if she tries to match her bite-for-bite, she’s certain her belly will explode. But then, would that be such a terrible thing? She’s never been able to stomach the noise anyway, let alone the famish of a love denied.

 

“It’s not a waste. _You’re_ not a waste,” Cosima tells her. “You deserve the whole world, Delphine.”

 

Cosima grows silent then for a moment, her eyes glaze over with what Delphine thinks she recognizes as remorse.

 

“I’d give it to you if I could.”

 

She smiles then, smiles widely and recklessly and tearily against her girlfriend’s lips. 

 

“You already have.”

 

Their fingers dance their familiar courtship, grazing and exploring before linking in a much more solid bond. 

 

“Then don’t throw it away,” Cosima replies, her tears retreating. “I’m not done just yet and neither are you. _We’re_ not done, Delphine. Okay?”

 

Delphine nods, a strange easiness overcoming her, a steadiness settling the staccato of her heart.

 

“Okay.”

 

They embrace again, fearful of releasing one another. It isn’t until Cosima’s lungs start to ache that she pulls away to cover her mouth as sharp, uneven blasts are expelled. She knows that pity’s off the table, but there’s no possible way she can mask her concern when she sees Cosima hunched over like a cornered cat.

 

“Y-You shouldn’t be up. You shouldn’t even be here. You need to rest,” Delphine advises her.

 

When she finally catches her breath again, Cosima offers her a crooked grin as a sign of reassurance and waves her hand in dismissal.

 

“I’m fine. I’m actually feeling a little bit better today, not including the heart attack you nearly gave me,” she promises. “Wanna go for a walk around the floor?”

 

Delphine frowns, her eyes looking past Cosima and landing on her wheelchair which still rests in the doorway to her hospital room. If her condition is serious enough for her to be confined to such a contraption, is a walk really such a good idea?

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Cosima sighs, defeated.

 

“Alright, fine. You can push me around in that stupid chair if it’ll make you feel better.”

 

Delphine finds her grin again, unable to contain her quiet laughter. She pulls herself from the bed and walks beside Cosima as they journey back over to the wheelchair. Once the brunette is seated, Delphine grabs the handles and slowly wheels her out of the room, starting on a journey to nowhere in particular.

 

She finds a strange comfort in such a simple action, a muted case of joy.

 

She imagines herself old and longtime grey, her body plagued by leathery creases — wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and lips from a lifetime of smiles and laughter. She imagines herself wheeling her silly love around, blind and deaf from years of use and abuse at the hands of her books and music. She imagines them like this, at an ending very different from the one she knows awaits them.

 

“Take a right, Hoke.”

 

She doesn’t really get the reference, but she follows Cosima’s instructions and takes a left when they reach the end of the long corridor, turning down yet another identical hallway. There are a few nurses out and about, but nobody seems to pay any attention to the two girls as they stroll leisurely through the hospital.

 

“Wanna pick up the speed a little, huh?”

 

“You said go for a walk— not a race.”

 

Despite her objection, she marginally increases her speed. She looks down at Cosima who seems to be lost in thought but otherwise enjoying their brief journey.

 

“I miss driving,” Cosima remarks.

 

Delphine is aware of just how much the brunette misses that poor excuse for a vehicle. Cosima essentially lived in her car, constantly coming and going. To be confined to a chair, a bed, (a body) must be too severe a sentence for the girl in motion.

 

“I’m sure no one on the road misses you,” she jokes, trying to make light of the situation.

 

Cosima’s grin widens, she turns in her chair to catch a glimpse of the blonde.

 

“Ooh. Cheeky,” she chimes. “Say what you want to about my driving skills, you still got in the car with me all those times.”

 

_“Oui_ ,” she admits without shame. “And I’d get in that car with you a hundred more times, _mon amour_.”

 

Cosima lights up at her words, giggling to herself like a schoolgirl. When they reach the end of their current hallway, they turn onto the next one. Delphine begins to walk even faster while Cosima continues to goad, encouraging her like a troublesome classmate. Before she knows it, she’s broken into a sprint down the hospital hallway, flying past personnel who all stop in their tracks to glare, some calling out for them to cease with their childish thunder. She never does, though. She never stops running. She reaches a point where she isn’t even sure why anymore, where she isn’t sure if she’s running from or towards something. She pushes Cosima the entire way, fuelled by wind and laughter, fuelled by a hunger in her belly that screams “more, more, more.” 

 

_So much more_.

 

They run around the hospital floor in a circle, over and over. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of her father as she passes him, but he makes no attempt to stop them or even raise his voice to object to her behaviour. She knows they’ll have to stop eventually— she’ll either run out of steam or one of the hospital staff members will finally intervene. But for now? For now they’re safe. 

 

So long as they keep moving. 


	23. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Notes:** A quick update! I had this one mostly written already, so it’s getting an early post. As always, your comments and support is greatly appreciated. We’re fast approaching the end of this one, folks! Enjoy :)

 “How about children?”

 

“Hmm. Maybe,” Cosima replies, snuggling up closer until she’s completely nestled against Delphine’s side, wrapping herself around the blonde’s arm. “You’d have to have them, though.”

 

“Why me?” Delphine laughs.

 

“I’m a tiny person, Delphine,” Cosima says matter-of-factly, grin spreading. “I can barely carry my backpack. You think I’m gonna carry around another person for nine months?”

 

It’s true. Even though she imagines that Cosima would make an excellent mother, she really can’tenvision her pregnant at all. Herself? Maybe. She hasn’t really given the whole “children” thing very much thought. The idea of being responsible for someone else always frightened her, but perhaps if she had Cosima at her side, she’d somehow find the strength.

 

“Okay. Fine. How many?”

 

“Three,” the brunette answers without skipping a beat.

 

“Three?” Delphine asks incredulously.

 

“Two girls and a boy,” Cosima nods. “And a dog, too. A real dopey-looking one that we adopted from the shelter. You know, the old one with the gimp leg and the wonky eye that no one ever wants?”

 

She looks down at her love with a smile, pressing a kiss to the crown of Cosima’s head.

 

“That’s very specific,” she mumbles into her hair.

 

“Well, you asked,” Cosima shrugs.

 

They’ve been going back and forth like this for hours, playing out different scenarios in their heads. _Would you? Could you? If you?_ The answers hardly matter, not with the truth clinging to the walls like asbestos. Cosima’s chest begins to silently quake before it erupts into a full blown rumble and she brings her hand to cover her mouth. As if on cue, Delphine reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a couple of tissues from the box and offering them to her. Cosima accepts, stains them red with her gratitude before crumpling them up and tossing them into the waste bin which has conveniently been placed at the side of her bed. The coughing subsides and she’s finally able to catch her breath again, but Delphine frowns. She can’t help but notice how the blood still clings to her girlfriend’s lips. Instinct pushes her forward and she traces those lips with her thumb, removing all remnants of her illness. Cosima offers her a timid smile, one that speaks both shame and appreciation, “thank you” and “I’m sorry.”

 

They’ve had so many moments like this in the shortness of their summer. Cosima’s worsening condition prevented her from really going anywhere, but Delphine didn’t mind. While other kids hit the beach or the amusement park, took grand trips to somewhere far away, the two girls enjoyed their time together from the comfort of Cosima’s room. She’d arrive first thing in the morning right when she knew Cosima would be waking up, and if Cosima was too tired to pull herself from her dreams, she’d sit at her bedside and watch her sleep. During the day, she would periodically wander over the drawer of medicine and divvy up the pills for Cosima to take when she was ready, having learned the proper dosage, the two of them finding as much comfort as they possibly could in their forced routine.

 

Occasionally, when Cosima was feeling well enough, they’d take a walk around the neighbourhood. She seemed to sparkle on those days, delighting at the prospect of rejoining the world she had such a perfect love for. Delphine could never quite understand it. She never understood how the girl’s wonder and gratitude had remained intact when all she could feel was bitterness and resentment for a world that just couldn’t make a place for her love. How could Cosima marvel at the beauty of something that so harshly rejected her? When Cosima looked at a garden, she saw a small universe in every single flower petal. When Delphine looked, she saw all the spots that lacked Cosima— a thousand tiny universes, all of them empty.

 

One time, they made it well beyond their usual boundaries. Cosima had insisted, had pushed herself even when her body screamed for her to retreat, stubbornly dragging her oxygen tank behind her the entire way.

 

“We should go back,” Delphine had suggested upon seeing how worn and out of breath Cosima was. “You’re tired.”

 

Cosima simply shook her head and caught her breath once again, holding it like an unruly child in shopping mall who simply refused to cooperate. She wouldn’t stand for this tantrum. Not when freedom was at her fingertips.

 

“Just a little further.”

 

When Delphine had finally realized where Cosima was leading them, her heart constricted painfully in her chest. She’d led them back to the park— _their park._ The park where they’d had their very first kiss. She had led them to the very same spot and as soon as they arrived, she had dropped unceremoniously into the grass while Delphine took a seat next to her.

 

“We should have come here more,” Cosima had remarked, a tinge of regret in her voice.

 

She had curled her body towards Delphine, resting her head in the blonde’s lap while Delphine had run her fingers through her hair, gently petting her. They had stayed for as long as they could before Cosima’s strength nearly left her completely and Delphine had to call the girl’s mother to come and retrieve them. Despite the exhaustion, it had been one of their better days.

 

“We’ll live someplace quiet. Somewhere away from all the noise, where it won’t bother you anymore,” Cosima says, reclaiming Delphine’s attention and revisiting their conversation previously cut short. “How about the beach? I love the beach.”

 

Delphine hums in consideration, closing her eyes and allowing the scene to spread out before her. She can see them both, bikini-clad in the sand and basking in the sound of the ocean’s waves, Cosima’s skin kissed a shade darker by the sun. A beach with no one else on it. An island, perhaps. An island all to themselves. Cosima cuddles up even closer to the French girl, looking up at her with a large smile. When Delphine opens her eyes again to reply, she greets it with a grin of her own.

 

“That sounds... wonderful.”

 

Cosima reaches for her hand, raising it so she can place a kiss upon the back of it.

 

“Good,” she agrees. “I can teach you how to surf.”

 

Delphine arches a brow, confused and amused at the same time.

 

“You know how to surf?”

 

How did she not know this about Cosima? It seems like something she should know and she wonders how it’s never come up before. Cosima releases a shallow laugh, careful not to send herself into another coughing fit.

 

“No,” she answers, putting Delphine’s confusion to rest. “But, I mean, I figure if we’re gonna be living on the beach, I’ll learn. And you’ll be so busy with work, you’ll shut yourself in and I’ll complain that we never do things together anymore and that all you care about is your work and in a bid to prove your undying love for me, you’ll let me take you out surfing one day.”

 

She sees it. She sees it all unfold in technicolour in her mind. She can feel it in her bones and it’s _so real_ , she can feel its gravity binding her to the Earth and keeping her standing up straight. How can something so visceral and gut-felt be so false? She knows that gravity is no lie. Perhaps she’s a fool to think she could live in this constant state of suspension with her. 

 

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers, her lips trembling.

 

She sinks lower onto the bed to reach Cosima’s level and she turns towards the cheeky girl, their faces so close the tips of their noses are nearly touching. Cosima watches her for a moment, watches lips that, like hers, can’t contain the force at work behind them. 

 

“I know.”

 

With the brunette’s acknowledgement, her quivering lips turn into full on sobs that she just can’t seem to fight anymore. Cosima continues to watch her intently, brushing a few blonde strands from her face as she allows Delphine her grief.

 

“What am I supposed to do, Cosima?’ she asks, broken and defeated.

 

Cosima offers her a small smile, her own eyes glossy.

 

“Everything.”

 

She pulls Delphine in closer, burying the sobbing girl’s head in her chest. 

 

“You’ll be okay, Delphine. You’ll figure it out,” she tells her.

 

Delphine shakes her head defiantly.

 

“I won’t. _I can’t._ ”

 

How can Cosima possibly expect that of her? 

 

“You will,” Cosima insists, lifting Delphine’s head again and smiling against her lips. “You will because… I’ll never leave you.”

 

Cosima’s words strike her deeply and she stops, wide-eyed and full of awe. Cosima strokes the side of her face lovingly and Delphine realizes that her eyes aren’t glimmering with the grief of her own demise or at the sight of her lover unravel before her, but with the knowledge of something that extends far beyond her comprehension.  


“Even if I’m not here, I’ll… I’ll come back for you, Delphine,” she tries to explain, tries to share some of her inaccessible knowledge. “I don’t know how, but I will. _Somehow._ I just know it.”

 

There’s a certainty to her voice, a steadiness in it that’s solid enough for Delphine to grab hold of. She clings to it for life, to keep herself from falling even further. It’s just a small plank, but it’s as much as she’ll ever get, enough for her to build her life on.

 

“Come here,” Cosima whispers.

 

Their kisses are slow and gentle, but they don’t lack passion. Her upper lip bumps against the cannula and Cosima giggles into her mouth, pulling away briefly to remove the contraption from her face. Before Delphine has a chance to wonder if it’s such a good idea, Cosima is kissing her again and she can no longer bring herself to care. She can taste a hint a blood— a taste that’s reminiscent of chimeras and car rides, of aquariums and dandelions. Her tongue reaches out, seeking its mate and they both moan when she finds it, their kiss deepening. Cosima reaches lower, hands playing with the hem of her shirt and it’s been so long since they’ve had each other like this, she finds her body quivering in anticipation. Cosima must feel it, too, because she’s quivering, as well.

 

No.

 

It isn’t anticipation.

 

She pulls her lips away from Delphine’s and tilts her head away as her lungs start up again, another violent fit. She turns completely onto her side, away from Delphine as she coils into the fetal position and continues to hack. All Delphine can do is watch— watch and touch and attempt to soothe, but no words or gestures seem to be able to reign in the destructive force. By the time it finally peters out, Cosima is left winded and spent. She turns back over to face Delphine again and offers her an apologetic smile.

 

“I’m— I’m sorry,” Cosima stutters, her voice hoarse. “I’m… I’m too—”

 

_Tired?_

 

_Far gone?_

 

“It’s okay,” Delphine tells her, placing a kiss to Cosima’s cheek. “Let me.”

 

She peels Cosima’s clothing from her body, her movements slow and unhurried— like a child eagerly anticipating the gift that awaits her without being lost on the great care and effort which has gone into the wrapping. Once each article is shed, she tends to herself, though without as much consideration. She frees herself from her confines as quickly as possible and they both expel a sigh of relief when they’re skin-to-skin again, Cosima smaller beneath her body than the last time they found themselves in this same position. It seems like such a long time ago and yet, as she glides herself against Cosima’s body, lips trailing gentle kisses along her throat, her eyes flutter like the wings of a butterfly and an entire stop motion film plays out behind her curtains; black and white images flicker up close like the flame that whimpers hot beneath her and she sees them again, sees them as she always has— perfect, together, _one._

 

Colour spills back into her eyes the second she enters Cosima and the brunette’s nails dig into her biceps with as much strength as she can muster, a low groan slipping out of her lips. Delphine is careful not to be too forceful, but force is hardly necessary when she can see how enthusiastically Cosima responds to her touch.

 

“Delphine,” Cosima pants, eyes clamped shut.

 

She lowers her head, abandoning Cosima’s neck in pursuit of her breasts. She showers them with kisses, finding a perky nipple with her lips and pulling it into her mouth to gently suck. Just like all the times before, Cosima arches into her lips and whimpers.

 

_“Je t’aime,”_ Delphine mutters against Cosima’s breast, the cool exhalation of breath teasing the erect bud. “ _Toujours.”_

 

“I love you…”

 

She can feel Cosima grow tighter around her fingers, feel her wetness coating her entire hand. She slips one of Cosima’s thighs between her own and begins to grind, begins to share her own arousal with her lover. They’re both panting now, both primed in sweat and lost in the sensation of each other. Somehow, Cosima’s lungs hold up. They both half-expect another fit to come blowing in to disrupt their encounter, but it never does. What they get instead is the stalling of breath, a quiet shudder before a cry comes tearing out of Cosima’s lips and she feels the smaller girl envelop her completely. She’s certain that one or both of Cosima’s parents must have heard such a noise, but neither come to check. 

 

When they’re finished, she rests her head against Cosima’s chest and takes in every strangled breath while Cosima’s fingers toy with her hair, wrapping golden curls around her fingers before releasing them again and admiring their bounce. She can hear it rattle around in there, like a mouse inside a wall or pills inside a bottle. _Coward_ , she thinks; hiding in the shadows, nameless. _Come out and fight._

 

But it doesn’t. 

 

And it won’t.

 

And in that moment, she realizes something profound, her eyes widening and pupils dilating at such a great discovery. She realizes that fighting these imaginary creatures is so much harder than fighting the real ones— there’s no satisfaction of fist to face or the cracking of bones, you’re not even allowed the surrender of body hitting ground. It’s only a flailing of limbs, an invisible target that leaves you broken and beaten and exhausted every time, with no battle scars carved up across your body to serve as a token of your service, as proof of your valiance. And so they laugh— the spectators. They laugh at the madman’s sport, at the strange little dance one does when they go three rounds in the ring with the shadows. They laugh, because they’ll never know— they laugh because they’d cry if they did. 

 

Cry just as she does— fighting shadows in this bed with her Cosima, fighting shadows that hide amongst the static in her skull.

 

“Promise?”

 

Cosima hums, lowering her gaze until it lands upon Delphine’s head.

 

“Promise what?” she asks, arching her brows with a smile.

 

Delphine presses a kiss right above her heart, turning her head to look up at her love, meeting her eyes again as she rests her chin atop Cosima’s sternum.

 

“That you’ll come back. That you’ll find me again,” she says with a smile, despite the tears slipping down her cheeks  “That we’ll be together.”

 

Cosima’s words catch in her throat for a moment and her expression shifts, becoming much too serious for a face that normally boasts such bold and crooked smiles. She nods once before a muted smile returns to her features.

 

“I promise.”

 


	24. Breathe

The first thing she’s aware of upon opening her eyes is the horrible crick in her neck. She lifts her head from the desk and cranes it all the way back, messaging the knotted scalene muscles with slender yet precise fingers. Her eyes slide shut again and she reaches her hands high above her head to stretch out her spine over the back of the chair. She can’t help but moan as she’s granted temporary relief from her aches, but when she opens her eyes again and they flit around the room like a timid hummingbird, confusion is the very next thing her waking mind encounters.

 

She finds herself in a room she doesn’t entirely recognize, yet still finds strangely familiar. She’s fairly certain she’s never seen this chair before and yet, it seems to have warped to fit her, seems to know her shape quite intimately. Even the walls tell a story, the words of which she can’t remember. She stares down at the desk, at the papers scattered all over the surface. She recognizes her own messy handwriting; a never-ending series of notes filling page after page, filled to the brim, their knowledge threatening to spill over. She furrows her brow, trying to make sense of her current situation.

 

“Did you fall asleep out here again?”

 

Startled by the intruder, she whips her head around to find Cosima in the doorway, leaning against the frame, clad only in an oversized t-shirt and her eyes dulled by sleep. She rubs them lightly, attempting to purge the glaze as she waits for the blonde to respond.

 

“I must have,” she replies, the words coming to her instinctively. 

 

She’s met by a warm, white smile that incites one upon her own face. Cosima looks… _different._ Not how she remembers and yet, there’s no contestation, no doubt that she’s seeing the cheeky girl as she’s always been. Her hair is dreaded and sits atop her head in a messy bun, there’s ink upon her arms, and while her mind subconsciously questions these new details, something lurking somewhere much deeper in her body shrugs these questions off and accepts what she knows to be true— this is her love.

 

“I think you’ve studied enough,” Cosima remarks, turning around and disappearing back into the room she came from. “Come to bed?”

 

Her last words reach out through the distance between them, piercing the blonde’s hearing and suddenly, the strangeness of the room and the ache in her neck are entirely forgotten. She’s on her feet and moving almost robotically, drawn towards Cosima like a moth to a flame. When she steps through the doorway into the darkened room, Cosima is waiting for her. She’s ready to crawl back into bed but she stops the moment she sees Delphine, their eyes locking. The brunette’s grin returns, though it’s different in nature than the one she was greeted with before— this one possesses a quiet knowledge and quickly spreads into something teasing, something seductive. Cosima reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and, without a word, pulls it over her head to expose herself completely to the French girl’s gaze.

 

“Hey,” she speaks, her voice throaty and enticing. 

 

“Hi,” she breathlessly retorts.

 

Delphine’s eyes drop to the expanse of skin she’s now afforded, her breath hitching as she takes in the soft swell of breasts, the jut of Cosima’s collarbone, the toned muscles of her stomach which clench very slightly as her body adjusts to the coolness of air. Her eyes then fall upon the massive, horizontal scar that stretches out just beneath her breasts and she smiles, stepping forward to trace the reminder with the tip of her index finger.

 

“Kiss me,” Cosima whispers, need clinging to her words.

 

She’s on her then like feathers on a bird, pushing the tiny brunette backwards until she goes spilling onto the bed. It only takes the blonde a moment to pull off her own clothing and she settles herself above her lover, gazing down, arms framing Cosima’s head. Cosima beams up at her and she wipes the smile off of her face with an urgent kiss, her tongue skillfully searching, plundering the familiar warmth of Cosima’s mouth. Cosima moans against her and she tears her lips away, only to trail them lower, branding the dreadlocked woman with her desire.

 

“Del,” Cosima sighs, fingers sinking into her girlfriend’s hair as Delphine’s head drifts lower, tongue dipping into the hollow of Cosima’s throat for a moment before continuing on her journey.

 

Cosima’s body has returned to its regular fullness and she smiles at this discovery, slowing for a second to shower each breast with attention. Short nails scratch lightly at her scalp, encouraging her, rewarding her with soft whimpers as she sucks greedily, her hunger for flesh insatiable. When her lips finally descend to reach the scar, they both suck in a sharp breath. It’s long since healed, but Delphine regards it with caution, with _reverence._ She drags her lips across the entire length of it, drawing out a giggle from the pit of Cosima’s stomach.

 

“Ticklish?” she inquiries with a devilish grin.

 

“You know I am,” Cosima retorts, tongue visible from behind her flawless smile.

 

She’s unable to contain herself any longer.

 

She hoists Cosima’s legs up over her shoulders and dives into her heat head-first. The remnants of laughter are ripped away from the brunette’s throat and replaced by moans the second her tongue glides through Cosima’s sex, nails digging into her scalp and drawing her in impossibly closer. 

 

“Jesus, babe. Just like that,” Cosima sighs, her eyes rolling back into her head. “Right there.”

 

She hardly needs the words of encouragement but she welcomes them anyway, her tongue never relenting, igniting at the taste of her lover’s sweetness. Her mouth moves instinctively, knowing just how hard to suck to draw out a chesty moan and just how light to graze to make Cosima squirm and sigh. Even with Cosima’s thighs clamped around her head, she can hear the petite woman’s sounds with perfect clarity, as if her ears have endured years of training. There’s a muscle memory to all of this— every touch, every taste, every sound. They move like old lovers, perfectly in sync and completely aware, as if their souls have somehow melded together. 

 

Cosima comes apart against her mouth, keening and shuddering, an exhausted pile of sweat and bones amongst maroon bedsheets. Despite this, despite the exhaustion and the post-orgasmic haze, she finds the strength somewhere within her to catch the blonde off guard, to force her back and straddle her, to incite yet another round.

 

Their lovemaking is thick and slow— like molasses, like long, summer days under a southern sun. She grips Cosima’s hips tightly to encourage her ministrations and looks up at her with lust and pure adoration, finding it hard to believe that after so long, after memorizing every inch of this woman’s body, mind and soul, she can still engage with her in a completely new way. 

 

They lose themselves in each other, until the lightbulb moon burns out and gives way to the softness of the morning sun bleeding through their window, spilling over their tangled bodies. She isn’t sure if Cosima is sleeping, but the smaller girl is silent and nestled snug against her, eyes closed and breath tickling at Delphine’s neck. Sleep begins to nag at her own brain as she stares up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed and mind clouded. This entire room smells of them, _feels_ of them— of a life they’ve spent great care creating for each other, even though she can’t quite seem to recall the process. There are certain details missing, certain details that she can’t quite wrap her head around. 

 

Her eyes then shift, landing upon the dresser, upon the framed photographs that adorn the top of it. There’s one of them at the aquarium, the two of them standing in front of the octopus tank where she’d once watched Cosima dance with the creature. Cosima is on her tiptoes, eyes closed as she presses a kiss to the taller girl’s cheek, Delphine smiling widely at the gesture. There’s another one of them in dresses— presumably at some sort of dance or formal. They stand in a row with Cosima’s friends, Tony and Felix wearing suits while the rest of them dazzle in their gowns. The next picture is far more candid and casual, the two of them captured in a moment of quiet intimacy. They’re sitting in the grass, Cosima laying back with her head resting in Delphine’s lap and a smile splayed across her face. Delphine’s expression is far more serious, filled with awe and admiration as she stares down at her tiny lover, one hand toying with Cosima’s hair.

 

Her eyes burn.

 

Her heart swells.

 

Cosima moves again, cooing, pressing kisses to her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the corners of her lips. She lingers on Delphine’s temple before her lips find the blonde’s ear.

  
“I love you,” she whispers.

 

As soon as the words leave her lips, the entire room becomes bathed in a shadow that pours in out of seemingly nowhere. Like a capsizing ship, the room flips and fills, oxygen slowly escaping. She feels a crushing weight against her chest and she cries out, each remaining breath draw and painful, each stab from this invisible blade brutal and precise. She feels a crushing weight against her chest and her eyes widen in fear, her mouth gasps for air like a fish out of water and she clutches Cosima, desperate to keep her close. She can feel the coldness begin to settle deep into her bones, deep into all the spaces of her that don’t even have a name and she clings to the warmth, her body wracking with sobs.

 

“Hey, hey,” Cosima speaks, attempting to soothe and reclaim her attention. “Look at me, Delphine. _Look at me._ ”

 

Her hands cradle Delphine’s face, tilting her head so the French woman can meet her gaze. And in that moment, Cosima’s changed again. The dreads are gone and she’s just as Delphine remembers her the very first time they met, star-soaked and gleaming.

 

“Just keep breathing, okay?” 

 

Her smile is tender and all-knowing, soft around the edges. Even still, it splits her open in more ways than she can count until the light inside comes bleeding through the cracks. Cosima leans in close (not close enough), her lips finding Delphine’s one last time, her thumb brushing softly over the blonde’s cheek. They both linger, both shudder, both breathe each other in until their very cells are dripping with the memory of the touch.

 

_“Deep breaths.”_

 

 

\+ + +

 

 

She springs from her sleep, heart slamming against her ribcage as her head whips back and forth, absorbing her surroundings. She's back in her room, back in her body which trembles vigorously and threatens to shatter even under the most delicate of touches.

 

An overwhelming emptiness overcomes her.

 

She brings her hand to clutch her chest, to plug the hole and keep even more from spilling out as she rocks herself back and forth. Minutes later, her phone begins to scream over on her nightstand, a vicious herald that fills her entire world with black. 

 


	25. Parting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Notes:** This one was hard to write, but sort of inevitable. Thank you all for sticking with this story so far, it really means a lot. The end is very near. Much love.

A thick fog hangs low, cutting through the air and diffusing the sun’s meager rays as she slowly treks through the dew-covered grass, tiny droplets of water clinging to her boots like memories, filling each step with a heaviness that sets her off balance. After standing still for what feels like hours, a statue in the haze, she’s finally able to move again— though not in the direction she initially intended. Checking her watch, she realizes it’s far too late to turn back now, so she presses forward. She’s certain that her absence will be noted, but she can’t bring herself to care. There’s only one place she can think to go now, so she allows her unsteady feet to carry her as far as they can.

 

By some act of God she manages to venture through the park without collapsing or vanishing into the fog just like her phantom love. She makes it all the way to the small clearing, to the lion-headed fountain of stone that’s since dried up, signifying the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, the slow but sure decay of all that’s warm and vivid in her life. She steps into the very place where she once huddled so closely to the brunette, where quiet glances and timid touches had eventually caved in, giving way to that strange force which seemed to have come from nowhere to completely uproot her with a simple kiss. As she stares down at the spot she feels her heart rattle in her chest, stretching the confines of her ribcage and begging for some kind of desperate release she simply doesn’t know how to grant. Colour begins to slowly fade out from her surroundings and her eyes are instead drawn to the palms of her shaking hands, to the deep and violent hues bleeding from her clammy pores. 

 

She wonders where it’s coming from.

 

_Has it been there all along?_

 

“Oi.”

 

She jumps, startled by the intrusion. Her alarm almost immediately subsides though, because she instantly recognizes the voice. She doesn’t even have to turn around to identify the owner, but she does so anyway. Sure enough, she’s face-to-face with the young punk, the rest of her group lingering at a safe distance behind the brunette, passively watching. She allows her eyes to linger on them for a moment before they divert back to the faded ground beneath her feet, barely strong enough to keep her upright.

 

“Didn’t see you at the funeral,” Sarah remarks, slowly making her way closer.

 

Delphine nods, acknowledging her words though still unable to meet her gaze. Sarah attempts a smile, attempts to put the blonde at ease, but it’s evident how little energy she has to devote to such a forced gesture. It seems like everyone’s been running on empty lately. With so much sudden and vacant space, it isn’t hard to imagine why.

 

“I was going to— but I… I…”

 

Her voice breaks, her breath becoming as thick as the fog that blankets the entire park. Images of Cosima come flooding into her mind— of her cold, lifeless face as she rests upon a bed of roses and mahogany. How was she supposed to just stand there and _watch_? How could she stand there and look down at her smallness and not see her whole world slip away? How was she supposed to stand in a room that was so strangely full of Cosima yet void of her at the very same time?

 

“I couldn’t— I couldn’t sit there and— I didn’t know how to—”

 

She feels her throat begin to swell again, tears nipping at her eyes. Sarah steps forward and in a slightly uncharacteristic display of softness, places her hand on Delphine’s arm in solidarity.

 

“It’s okay,” she reassures the French girl. “I get it, yeah? We all do.” 

 

Her eyes land upon the others, upon Alison and her simple black dress, wrinkle-free and pristine yet marred by stains that no amount of dry cleaning will ever properly tend to. Tony and Felix both wear somber suits to match their expressions, their bodies not quite full enough to fill them. Even Sarah’s outfit has seemed to tame the unruly girl— the absence of colour isn’t new, though her hair is brushed and her clothing free of rips and tears, giving some strange impression of maturity.

 

“How was it?” Delphine asks, desperate eyes finally meeting Sarah’s. “Was it nice? Were there a lot of people?”

 

While she knows it makes no difference, that her reality will remain unchanged, there’s a part of her that yearns to hear it— to know that Cosima was properly honoured, that she received every bit of love she deserved even as she was lowered into the ground, that the presence of such warmth would somehow make the earth softer, make her new home a little less lonely.

 

“Yeah. It was nice,” Sarah mutters, her smile betraying itself as her own heartache seeps through and makes itself known in the cracking of her voice, the misting of her eyes. “There were loads of people. Her whole family, a bunch of kids from class I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know— shit, even teachers and some of her doctors. And… and us.”

 

There’s a brightness and an honesty to the blonde’s smile even as it breaks apart at the seams, even as she finds herself unable to stop the steady flow of salt from her eyes. She nods vigorously and laughs, biting down hard on her lower lip to keep the laughter from transforming into sobs.

 

“Tony even spoke,” Sarah adds. “Didn’t know he knew so many big words.”

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, turning away from Sarah and the others, her body noticeably wracking as she does her best to cling to silence and control. Her fingers anxiously dance along the hem of her black skirt as she takes great care in steadying her breathing, taking in deep gulps of breath.

 

_“Deep breaths, okay?”_

 

“How did you know I’d be here?” Delphine finally asks, regaining some semblance of control.

 

While she’s grown close to Sarah and the others through Cosima, she doesn’t remember ever mentioning this place to them. This had been the place she came to with Cosima. This had been _their_ place. Somehow, she already knows the answer to her question, but she needs to hear Sarah say it nonetheless.

 

“Cosima told me,” Sarah plainly answers. “She told me this place was important to you, that I should… well, I just figured I’d find you here.”

 

Delphine nods again, acknowledging and accepting Sarah’s answer though still unable to turn back around and face her. She keeps her face concealed, knowing that it’s probably a mess of streaky makeup, swollen eyes and blotchy, red patches. She attempts to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her black cardigan, but it hardly helps to correct her sorry situation.

 

“We’re gonna head back to my place, have a drink. Why don’t you come with?”

 

She’s never been one for drinking, but she can’t deny how tempting alcohol sounds right now. Supposedly it numbs the mind, allows you to lose yourself momentarily. At least, that’s what Cosima had told her. Cosima wasn’t much of a drinker, either. She always said she liked being present, that she never wanted to feel numb and impervious to the world. That’s why she preferred weed— it made her hyperaware, allowed her to experience everything in greater detail. The blonde almost laughs at the irony of her situation. How is it that the two of them were ever able to find such a perfect level of understanding? Right now, she’d give anything to escape _this_. She’d welcome the numbness, drift away in its sweet release. It _has_ to be better than whatever _this_ is— this cacophony of emotions that clash against each other and scream so loudly inside of her that she’s rendered deaf to their call, to their constant push and pull that keeps her trapped in one place. 

 

_You wanted the world,_ she thinks. A _nd I want none of it._

 

Yet here she is, surrounded by life in all of it’s loud, unpleasant glory— the thing she never asked for, the battle she was never strong enough to fight— while Cosima is doomed to exist solely in her memories.

 

_Where’s the fairness in this?_

 

She turns back around towards Sarah and the second her eyes land upon the shorter girl, her entire body locks up. _How?_ How is she supposed to go back with them, back with _Cosima’s_ friends, without Cosima? How are they supposed to drink and interact without the thread that binds them all together? How are any of them supposed to carry on like things are normal?

 

_“I… I… I can’t,”_ she struggles, her breaths strangled and uneven. _“I can’t move.”_

 

She feels her knees begin to buckle just like that day on Cosima’s porch when she’d learned the truth. Sarah rushes forward and reaches for her while Delphine gasps for breath.

 

“Hey. Here, it’s okay,” Sarah reassures her, slowly lowering her to the ground. “A little help, please?”

 

As if on cue, the others finally join the conversation. Felix and Tony each slip one of her arms around their necks to support her, helping her to her feet again while Sarah and Alison talk quietly amongst themselves, their words indiscernible to the blonde.

 

“It’s okay, darling,” Felix tells her.

 

“That’s right,” Tony adds, his voice softer than she ever remembers it being. “We’ve got you.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

She clings to Tony’s arm for support as he helps her through the doorway and into a rather quaint, almost normal-looking house. She can’t quite picture Sarah or Felix living in such a place, but as Tony walks her into the living room and takes a seat next to her on the couch, she can see photo evidence of the two young miscreants adorning the walls and the mantle. Sarah heads straight into the kitchen where an older woman is waiting, leaning against the counter with a mug in her hand.

 

“Hey, S.”

 

“Hey, love,” she replies, her accent thick. “How’d it go?”

 

Sarah sighs heavily, closing her eyes and trying to center herself as her lip subtly quivers. It’s all the answer the woman needs. She offers Sarah a sympathetic look, nodding curtly before reaching forward and pulling the punk into a hug.

 

“Got anything to drink?” Sarah mumbles into her arm.

 

The older woman chuckles.

 

“Is that a question you really have to ask?”

 

Sarah reemerges from the kitchen while their benefactor shuffles around, reaching into one of the cabinets to retrieve an expensive-looking bottle of bourbon and then fishing out glasses for each of them. She joins the rest of them in the living room, pouring liquor into each glass before handing them out.

 

“Normally I don’t approve of underage drinking, but given the circumstances, I think it’s appropriate,” the woman remarks. “But don’t think for a second that means I’m gonna watch you all get pissed and act like bloody fools. You can have _a_ drink.”

 

They all nod in silent understanding. By the time she makes her way around to Delphine to hand her a glass, the French girl’s hands are trembling so badly that she nearly drops it and spills the liquor all over the floor. The Irish woman catches it just in time before any can spill, holding Delphine’s hands in her own to steady them, the warmth from hers radiating out.

 

“Easy, love,” she coos. “You must be Delphine.”

 

Delphine nods.

 

“I’m Siobhan. I take care of these two bleeders.”

 

Delphine manages a half-smile as she brings the glass to her lips to take a sip. The second the amber liquid hits her tongue, her entire face contorts in displeasure and Siobhan chuckles, taking a seat in the armchair across from the group. She takes a large gulp of her own drink and Delphine eyes her carefully.

 

“You knew Cosima as well?” she asks.

 

Siobhan chuckles again, the rest of them quickly joining her. There’s clearly a history that Delphine is oblivious to, so she sits patiently in her seat and waits for Siobhan to explain while her knee bounces anxiously.

 

“Oh, did I ever,” Siobhan replies. “She used to come round here all the time. The only one out of this lot that had any sort of sense at all.”

 

“Yeah,” Sarah mutters, staring deeply into her drink.

 

“She was always pulling Sarah out of scraps, driving them around in that hideous heap of metal, helping them cheat on their tests.”

 

“So we wouldn’t fail,” Felix adds.

 

“We needed to stick together. Didn’t matter how,” Tony chimes in.

 

Delphine forces herself to take another sip, allowing their words to sit with her as she mulls them in unison with the alcohol. She’d dreaded coming back here with them initially, but she finds the conversation to be strangely… cathartic. 

 

“You didn’t go to the funeral either?” she inquires.

 

Siobhan shakes her head, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face and tucking it safely behind her ear. A small, enigmatic smile finds its way onto her face and Delphine leans forward in her chair.

 

“I’ve been to more than enough funerals in my life, love. I’ve had my fill,” she explains. “We all say goodbye in our own way. I don’t need a casket, a sermon and a weeping mother to do that.”

 

Siobhan’s words strike her hard and fast. Her body goes rigid, paralyzed by this revelation. That’s what this is all about— saying goodbye to Cosima. Only she has no idea how to do that. How do you part with something that’s become so intrinsic to you? _Do you really have to?_ How do you carry it with you without allowing it to weigh you down? How do you honour it properly? Standing over her girlfriend’s body and weeping just didn’t feel right. Even shutting herself away like she was once so inclined to do seemed disingenuous. 

 

_So how?_

 

The conversation continues. They all take turns sharing their favourite stories of Cosima and laughing; stories of young Cosima, of kind Cosima, of rebellious Cosima, of clever Cosima. They try their hardest to capture all the shades of her, but only the blonde realizes how impossible a task that truly is. She’d given up a long time ago. She remains silent on the couch, her eyes far away with her mind as their laughter tickles at her periphery. Eventually they all begin to pile into the kitchen with the promise of food, but she remains fixed in place, unable to abandon the question that’s been nagging at her mind.

 

“You should eat something.”

 

She looks up to see Siobhan standing before her, a small plate of food in hand.

 

“You’ve had a long day. You need your strength.”

 

“I… I’m not hungry,” she utters, head dropping again.

 

She hears Siobhan sigh and place the plate upon the side table before taking a seat next to her on the couch. Without looking up again, she can feel Siobhan’s eyes on her body, feel her sympathetic gaze peering into her. Its press isn’t harsh or violent, but its pressure is firm enough to pull some of that raging wind to the surface. Her lip is the first to give, it’s quivering undeniable as her entire body soon joins it.

 

“Come here, chicken,” Siobhan coos, pulling the sobbing girl in close for a hug.

 

She finds herself suddenly unconcerned with how loud she is, how her wailing seems to fill the entire house, how the noise in the kitchen dies down, how the older woman’s sweater seems to efficiently soak up her tears. Suddenly, her facade seems so trivial, so unnecessary. She doesn’t even remember why she built it in the first place— the fear and self-consciousness that it was built upon pales in comparison to the deluge she’s experiencing now.

 

“There’s no proper way to deal with something like this. There’s no right or wrong way to feel,” Siobhan whispers, lightly stroking Delphine’s hair. “I lost my husband years ago. I still have to remind myself when I wake up every morning that he’s gone.”

 

She clutches tightly to Siobhan, afraid that she’ll be swept away if she surrenders her hold. But maybe she will anyway. After all, she’d held onto Cosima so tightly and still lost her. Maybe it’s impossible to avoid getting swept up in it. 

 

“You never get used to it, but it does get a little easier. You find other reasons to keep going,” Siobhan tells her, eyes rising to land upon her two children who stand in the doorway, watching with heavy lips and shoulders.

 

The trembling girl is oblivious to their audience, oblivious to anything that isn’t the woman’s strangely soothing voice and the comfort of her wisdom, her experience. She finds it more useful that any piece of wisdom Doctor Leekie has ever imparted. 

 

_But even still._

 

“Keep her close. Take her with you. Don’t leave a part of yourself behind with her. She doesn’t need it now. She wouldn’t want it anyway.”

 

Even with Siobhan’s permission, she still can’t bring herself to accept it. She still can’t wrap her mind around how quickly this all happened, how in less than a year she’s gone from wanting to disappear completely to finding her great love, only to lose her so quickly. 

 

_“Why?”_ she sobs, burying her face a little deeper into the comfort of Siobhan’s chest. _“Why did this happen?”_

 

After everything, that question still haunts her. If she had done anything differently, would Cosima still be here? _Could_ she have done anything differently? Would she want to? Could she have done more? Could she have _been_ more? 

 

“I don’t know, love,” Siobhan admits, shaking her head. 

 

Here she finds herself again, trapped in a a room with the walls quickly enclosing on her, a room full of all these questions she doesn’t know how to answer. Only this time, she doesn’t have Cosima here to help her. 

 

“I don’t know.”

 


	26. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Wow, this has been quite the journey. There’s an epilogue to follow shortly, but I guess this is sort of the end of the road, huh? As always, thanks for sticking with me. I know many of you are quite upset with the way things unfolded, but I had a vision when I began writing this piece and while it would be super nice and super easy to shift things around to satisfy some, I wanted to remain true to that vision. Life isn’t always full of happy endings, you know? But there’s sort of a silver lining in everything, I guess. This story has been deeply personal for me, as well. It’s been very cathartic to write, very helpful in my own grieving process, so it brings me immeasurable joy to know that so many of you have found something beautiful or moving or at the very least entertaining in all of this. Much love, guys  <3

“Thank you for coming.”

 

Cosima’s mother opens the door a little wider, stepping aside to permit Delphine entry. Her legs reluctantly carry her across the threshold, her senses immediately assaulted the second she sets foot inside the house. Upon first glance, nothing has changed— the decor is exactly the same, not a single piece of art or furniture out of place. Even the smell remains achingly familiar; it’s as if Cosima is still hiding out upstairs in her room, burning nag champa to mask the skunky smell of her contraband. 

 

Only they both know this just isn’t true.

 

“No… thank _you,_ ” Delphine counters, trying her best to muster up a smile to express her gratitude.

 

Cosima’s mother leads her into the living room and they both take a seat on the couch, Delphine straightening out the wrinkles in her skirt before drumming her fingers along her knees nervously. She wasn’t entirely surprised to receive the invitation, a part of her was even happy and relieved, but sitting with the woman now only tugs at her heartstrings. What is she supposed to say? How is she supposed to act? Sensing her uneasiness, the older woman reaches out and places her hand atop Delphine’s, steadying her nerves. She’s reminded of her lover, of the many times she’d done just the same, somehow knowing that a single touch was all it would take to steady the blonde.

 

“How have you been, sweetheart?” she asks, her voice soft and smooth.

 

It’s an impossible question to answer, but she doesn’t want to appear rude so she wracks her mind for an answer. Her teeth burrow into her bottom lip and she smiles sadly, shaking her head to try to will these feelings away.

 

“I should be asking you that question,” she retorts.

 

She looks up, meeting the woman’s gaze. It’s in that moment that she watches her falter, watches the steady, serene woman slowly crack under her scrutiny. She watches as this constant beacon slowly begins to crumble, as brown eyes become glossy and a sharp intake of breath rings is heard.

 

“I’m taking it one day at a time,” Cosima’s mother replies, although she isn’t entirely sure who her words are intended for.

 

Delphine nods. She’s been living by a similar philosophy these last few weeks. What else is there to really do? What other way is there to go about this? She can’t bring herself to think too far ahead, of the tedious journey she has in front of her. All that matters is getting through the day as each one slowly bleeds into another. 

 

“I wanted to apologize for… for not coming to the funeral.”

 

Perhaps it isn’t entirely appropriate to bring up such a thing right now, but she has to say it anyway. She has to get it off her chest. She needs Cosima’s mother to understand _why_.

 

“It’s fine,” the aging woman insists. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

 

“I-I don’t want you to think—”

 

“I don’t.”

 

Delphine stops herself, searching the other woman with pleading eyes. Cosima’s mother offers her a teary and exuberant smile, one that’s reminiscent of the one she loved so much, the one she built her life around. She becomes ensnared in it all over again.

 

“I know how much you loved her. I saw it in your eyes every single day. I saw it in her eyes, too,” she tells the young girl. “I’d be impossible for anyone to think anything else.”

 

Her eyes clamp shut to stop the tears before they start. She wakes up every morning thinking she’ll never cry again, that she’s exhausted every tear in her body, and she’s always proven wrong. _Constantly proven wrong_ , everywhere she looks— everywhere she sees Cosima. Constantly proven wrong by the grinning girl since the very first day they met.

 

“I have some of her things for you.”

 

She returns her attention to the other woman, her mouth parting slightly to silently express her surprise and uncertainty surrounding the entire situation.

 

“Really? I don’t know…”

 

“She wanted you to have them, Delphine,” Cosima’s mother replies, standing up. “You know how damn stubborn she was. She made me promise that I’d give them to you.”

 

Delphine nods, swallows hard. How can she say no? A reassuring hand pats her on the shoulder, prompting her to stand, as well.

 

“They’re in a box upstairs on her bed. I’ll give you some time.”

 

Delphine offers her another gratuitous smile.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Niehaus.”

 

She can hear Cosima’s own laughter in the shadow of her mother’s.

 

“Cassandra is fine,” she insists. “That “Mrs.” stuff makes me feel older than I already do.”

 

In the weeks since Cosima’s been gone, she’s had nightmares about this moment— nightmares about returning to _that_ room, about what it would mean. In some of them, the staircase continues to expand and just goes on and on forever, preventing her from reaching the door. In others, she finds herself entering an empty room and falling through the floorboards into a bleak and weighty darkness, like Alice down a never-ending rabbit hole. In one, Cosima had even been there waiting for her, though the second Delphine had wrapped her arms around her, she slowly slipped away into the wind like sand in an hourglass that had been counting down the seconds from the moment they met.

 

The truth, as she’s come to learn, is nothing like this.

 

Her room remains untouched for the most part; it’s much tidier than usual and the bed is made, but aside from that, not a drop of Cosima’s charm has faded from the walls. She stops herself and twirls in place, takes a moment to drink in every little detail she already knows so well. She runs her fingers along the wall, the top of the dresser, the bookshelf, finally making her way over to the bed to peer down into the box that’s been left for her. On top of it is a plain white envelope with her name in Cosima’s messy handwriting.

 

She takes another moment to steady herself, taking a few deep breaths before her trembling hand outstretches and retrieves the envelope. She regards it carefully, opening it with a profound tenderness, careful not to tear the letter inside. As soon as she slips the sheet out and unfolds it, the sight of Cosima’s writing is enough to make her chest constrict.

 

 

**Delphine,**

 

**If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. Which is pretty shitty, but what can you do about that? _C’est la vie_ , right? **

 

Laughter and heartbreak tear through her chest simultaneously. She can hear Cosima’s voice in her head with perfect clarity— hear her cheeky tone, see her eye-teeth smiling at her as nimble hands dance along to her words.

 

**I don’t know if I can ever really give back to you what you gave to me, Delphine. I don’t know if I can thank you properly.**

 

She’s quaking again, desperate for contact she knows she can’t have. _You silly little brat,_ she thinks, reading on through bleary eyes. _You have no idea. None._

 

**When I first found out that I was sick, I was terrified. I was afraid that I’d die without the chance to experience all the things I’d been waiting for my entire life. And then I met you and I realized that I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if I didn’t get to travel the world or study at some top university or do all those stupid things I thought I wanted, because I had you. I realized you were all I ever really wanted.**

 

She slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle the noises that are pouring out of her now, Cosima’s voice reverberating off the walls inside of her head, shaking her to her very core. She wonders how such a phenomena is possible, how one can see and hear and feel a person like they’re standing right next to you— how you can have a full-body reaction to someone else’s presence—  while being completely aware of their absence. 

 

**So, I know this is just a pile of junk, but I want you to have it. Take good care of Drax, okay? You know he can be skittish.**

 

Looking into the box, she spies the plush dinosaur near the top and reaches for him. She sets the letter down atop the bed for a minute and brings the doll to her face, smothering her face in its softness. Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply. It still smells of Cosima. She allows herself to be carried away by the scent of comfort and when she’s finally ready to return, she picks up the letter again and continues reading.

 

**Keep an eye on Sarah and the others, too. Knowing them, they’ll probably get into a whole lot of trouble without me. They need someone like you to keep them grounded and mellow them out. And I know they’ll watch your back, too. If you ever need anything, you can go to them. Trust me, Delphine— you’ll never find better friends.**

 

She smiles, already knowing this to be true. Since the day of the funeral, Cosima’s friends have taken turns coming around to her house to check on her, to keep her company. Alison had brought her baked goods and the two of them had lay in bed together watching old movies. Tony and Felix had come with a joint and they spent hours giggling like children under her blankets, oblivious to the horrors of the world. Sarah came around most often— sometimes drunk or high, other times frighteningly sober. Sometimes they’d laugh, sometimes they’d cry, sometimes they’d shout and vent their frustrations. Instead of withdrawing, she finds their presence comforting. It’s another small piece of Cosima she still has, one of the few things she has left to find comfort in. Maybe that’s why she welcomes it.

 

**I know this must be hard for you, but you need to know that you’re not alone. I don’t want you to be sad for me, because I’m not sad. I still expect you to keep all your promises, okay? You know— going to school in Germany and becoming some big-shot doctor. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. When we see each other again, I wanna hear all about it and if you tell me that you flaked, I’ll totally ream you out.**

 

She laughs again, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. Perhaps Cosima is right. Perhaps _this_ is how she honours her— by keeping all of their promises. Siobhan had told her to keep Cosima with her, to be her eyes and ears and legs and lungs; to be her legacy, to carry her forward through the world. 

 

Perhaps _this_ is how Cosima lives. 

 

Perhaps _this_ is their happy ending, after all.

 

It isn’t exactly how she imagined it, but she feels a little lighter already.

 

**I don’t wanna be the thing that holds you back. That’s why you have to keep moving forward. Through the looking glass, you know? You’ll figure it out. Just remember that I love you. If things get too hard, if it it gets too loud or whatever, just close your eyes and take deep breaths, okay?**

 

**I’ll be there, in every single one of them.**

 

**Yours,**

 

**Cosima**

 

 

\+ + + +

 

 

She sinks into the chair beneath her, its leather hugging her body in such a foreign but welcomed way. It’s been quite some time since she’s found herself sitting in this waiting room, but she accepts the inevitability of her situation, of facing herself. As Cosima grew sicker, she’d placed her own well-being on hiatus to tend to her frail girlfriend and now that she’s returned, she can’t help but notice several glaring differences.

 

The first being the chairs.

 

Gone are the horribly stiff ones that had tormented her for so many Tuesdays as she waited for Cosima to spring through the door. The new doctor has invested quite a bit of money and care into the comfort of her patience.

 

Which brings her to the next glaring difference.

 

“I heard he was shot by one of his patients,” she had heard a boy mumble earlier. “That it was a freak accident or whatever.”

 

Leekie’s death had been a surprise, though she can’t bring herself to lie anymore— it hasn’t affected her all that deeply. She smiles, but not because she’s glad that he’s dead. She smiles because she can hear Cosima’s cheeky comment in her ear. 

 

_“All this time spent trying to get into our heads and it looks like someone got in way over their own. I wonder if he really was as full of shit as we thought, huh?”_

 

Doctor Bowles is supposed to be the best of the best, coming highly recommended. She hasn’t had a session with the doctor yet, but she already feels more at ease. Maybe it’s the new waiting room chairs or the fact that she’s a woman, but she no longer possesses the same dread she once did when she waited for Doctor Leekie to call her into his office for the very first time.

 

Or maybe it’s something else.

 

The door slowly creeps open and her attention shoots up, focusing on the dark-haired woman who pokes her head out from behind it and offers her a warm, receptive smile.

 

“Hello, Delphine,” she greets. “You can come on inside whenever you’re ready.”

 

Delphine nods, forcing herself to abandon the comfort of her chair. Doctor Bowles disappears back inside of her office and the blonde takes a moment to straighten out her clothes and take a _deep breath_ in preparation. She finds herself caught off guard by the presence of a sudden yet gentle breeze that appears from seemingly nowhere. Her eyes drift shut as she allows herself to be embraced, as it lingers for a moment before slowly blowing through the rest of the room and making its way back towards the elevators. She turns her attention back towards them, half expecting to see a flash of dancing limbs or a rumble of laughter, half expecting a tiny whirlwind to kick up and tear the place asunder. 

 

Instead, she’s met by quiet.

 

Quiet in her head.

 

Quiet in her heart.

 

She smiles, basking in her silence for just a moment before her feet continue to carry her forward, carry her across the threshold, her lungs bursting and hopeful.

 

The wind stills.

 


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Here we are, at last. The epilogue. Once again, thank you all so much for the incredible response to this fic. I’m looking forward to moving on and writing new (less angsty) fic, but there’s no doubt that this piece has sort of become my baby. So many of you have reached out to share your own stories and it really means so much to me. I can’t wait to respond to all of your comments in full when I finally have some time. Love to you all  <3

“Are you really going away?”

 

Tiny legs dangle loosely from the chair as the young girl looks up, eyes wide and full of concern. The blonde offers her a small, placating smile as she swabs the ditch of the child’s elbow with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, it’s coolness sending the smallest shiver up the girl’s spine.

 

“I won’t be long. Just a few days,” she promises.

 

She brings the syringe to the little one’s arm, having successfully found the vein she’s been looking for. The child’s body tightens in anticipation of its prick and her grip on the stuffed green dinosaur grows even stronger once the needle pierces her skin. The blonde’s gaze diverts for a second, noting her old friend tucked securely beneath the child’s free arm.

 

 

+ 

 

 

_Deep, brown eyes well with tears and gaze up at her as she holds the needle in her gloved-hand, prepared to strike like some sort of viper, quick and precise. While she’d initially been excited at the prospect of working on this very case, meeting their patient in person has changed all of that for her. She hadn’t expected the girl to be so young. Even more surprising, she hadn’t expected to ever gaze into such a familiarity ever again. The moment she first lay eyes upon her, she felt her entire being rattle, could feel something inside of her cracking and shifting— clearing space, making way; no longer is this girl just another series of numbers that she’s been looking at under a microscope for months. Now she has a face— a face that’s been burned into her memory for years, a face she visits in her dreams every night. Her cheeks may be rounded with youth, her features still immature, but it’s unmistakeable._

 

_All it takes for her conviction to waver is a quivering lip._

 

_“I’m scared,” the child confesses, sniffling._

 

_Delphine sets the syringe back on the table, abandoning the child— and her task— momentarily. An idea slowly bleeds into her brain and she wanders over to her bag, digging through it until she finds the object she’s looking for while the small brunette stares back at her curiously._

 

_“I have a present for you,” she announces._

 

_“You do?”_

 

_She stares down at the doll in her hand, squeezing it lightly, committing the feel of plush to her memory. She walks back over to the girl with the stuffed animal and takes her seat once again, holding it out for the child to accept._

 

_“This is Drax,” she explains, introducing the doll. “I’ve been… holding onto to him for now, but I think he’d be much happier with you. He’s very special to me, so I need you to take good care of him.”_

 

_As she suspects, the very sight of the stuffed dinosaur is enough to light up the girl’s tiny features. The tears are quickly brushed away on the sleeve of her shirt and the doll is accepted, pulled into a loving embrace by small yet powerful arms._

 

_“I will, I will! I promise!” she all but squeals, her fear discarded. “I love dinosaurs!”_

 

_The blonde chuckles lightly, watching with a smile as the girl brings the doll to her face and inhales deeply, her face contorting._

 

_“He smells kinda funny.”_

 

_She knows this is probably true. After all, it’s been years since he’s last been washed. It probably isn’t very hygienic, but every night, she can still smell Cosima clinging to every worn, green fiber. The girl pats his head lovingly as Delphine reclaims her attention, instructing her to hold out her arm to continue with the procedure. The young brunette squeezes the doll tightly as the blonde brings the needle to her skin._

 

_“Deep breath in, okay?”_

 

 

_+_

 

 

“I don’t want you to go,” the cherub whines, tugging on the sleeve of Delphine’s white coat. “You’re my favourite! It hurts when the other doctors take my blood, but not you.”

 

“You have Drax. He’ll protect you,” she retorts, gently prying the child’s hands from her sleeve so that she can free herself and press a bandaid to the entry wound.

 

“Maybe. But I don’t think so,” the brunette shrugs. “I think it’s just you.”

 

The blonde smiles. Once the procedure is over, she removes her gloves and stands, discarding them in the trash bin before venturing over to dispose of the used needle in the biohazard waste receptacle. The pigtailed-girl waits for her to return, fidgeting in her seat, as per usual— her legs kick through the air as her hands poke and prod at anything within their reach, overcome by their need to stay busy.

 

“I’ll be back before you even realize that I’m gone,” Delphine tells her.

 

She then motions for the little one to rise and as if on cue, the girl springs to her feet.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I told you. I have to go home,” the woman answers, pulling a child-sized jacket from the hook it’s hanging on.

 

“Because of your friends?” the youth concludes, remembering their previous conversation on the topic.

 

“Yes.”

 

Delphine attempts to guide the child’s arm into the sleeve of her coat, only her hand is captured by smaller ones that pull at her, swinging her arm playfully, twisting her in a childish dance.

 

“Do you miss them?” 

 

“I do.”

 

“Then why’d you leave?”

 

She handles the youngster’s curiosity with great patience, pulling her hand away once again in a bid to redirect focus back to dressing. She shouldn’t be surprised, but her patient’s mind and hands are impossible to tame.

 

“Because I had to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I had to help you.”

 

She finally captures one arm and manages to slide it through the sleeve, but as she attempts to guide the other one through, the child twirls around and evades her, giggling the entire time. 

 

“Why?” she presses.

 

Delphine sighs.

 

“Because I made a promise.”

 

The girl suddenly stops moving, cocking her head and staring up at the blonde inquisitively. 

 

“Who’d you make a promise to?”

 

As she stares down into bottomless brown depths, the mild irritation which the young brunette has been stoking with her lack of cooperation quickly fades away, the blonde’s smile returning to her. She reaches forward, catching one of the child’s pigtails in her hand and tracing the length of it, her fingers testing its softness. She then abandons the pigtail and brings her hand to softly caress the side of the girl’s blushing face, tenderly brushing her thumb over the her cheekbone. The child returns her gaze, unblinking and mouth slightly parted as she simmers in a state of awe. 

 

“Put your coat on, Charlotte. It’s time to go.”

 

Delphine’s words pierce through the spell and the little girl nods, shaking herself free and beaming up at Delphine.

 

“Okay.”

 

She hands over Drax for safekeeping so she can slip her other arm through her coat. Once her arms are through, she quickly finds the zipper and pulls it all the way up, offering yet another Delphine a smile and waiting for her confirmation. Delphine nods, returning Drax before slipping her hand into Charlotte’s free one and walking her out of the lab, down the long, sterile corridor towards the entrance of the building.

 

“Promise?”

 

The tiny, uncertain voice just barely reaches her ears and her brow furrows, confused.

 

“Promise what?” she asks.

 

Charlotte comes to a complete halt, forcing Delphine to stop, as well. The child’s face becomes dead serious as she demands Delphine’s attention. The blonde gazes down at her, at the doubt that’s painted across her young visage. Charlotte squeezes her hand firmly with her puny one and pulls Drax closer to her chest.

 

“That you’ll come back?” she clarifies.

 

Delphine feels a spark shoot through her body, her knees nearly giving out beneath the surge of energy flowing through her, pulling memories of their final conversation to the forefront of her mind. It’s so strange to be sixteen again, to live forever in glimpses of two young hearts drawn near. She swallows hard, accepting the electricity, allowing it to charge her anew.

 

“I promise.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

“Look who actually made it all the way back to this boring shite hole!”

 

A sly grin spreads across her face as soon as she hears the voice, twirling around in search of the owner. Her eyes rake through the crowd of people before they finally spot the gruff brunette approaching, pushing a stroller in front of her. She walks toward the mother and child, meeting them half-way.

 

“You didn’t think I’d come?” she teases, brows arched.

 

“Oh, I knew you would,” Sarah shrugs. “Alison’s been freaking out though. If you thought she was bad before, you haven’t had to deal with bridezilla. Felix is with her now, trying to keep her from exploding.”

 

Delphine frowns. She can only imagine the level of anxiety the typically high-strung woman is currently experiencing with her wedding only a day away and the rehearsal dinner mere hours. She’s secretly thankful that her busy schedule and the Atlantic ocean has kept her far away from the entire wedding process that a bridesmaid might usually be involved in.

 

“You know how she is. Everything’s gotta be perfect for the bloody rehearsal dinner. What the hell is that, anyway? Who practices _eating_?” Sarah criticizes.

 

Delphine can’t contain her own laughter. It’s been nearly a year since she’s been home and despite the passing of time, not much seems to have changed… except for the infant nestled comfortably in the stroller making gurgling sounds. The last time she’d seen Sarah, the punk had been just about ready to pop. She wanted to be there for Kira’s birth, but she’d been offered the opportunity of a lifetime by one of her most admired professors and she simply couldn’t turn it down. 

 

She crouches down so that she’s eye-level with the stroller to gain a better look at the child. The second she sees her, her eyes begin to tear and she reaches forward, stroking a few, wispy hairs atop the baby’s head.

 

_“Bonjour, mon petite chou,”_ she coos. 

 

She leans in, pressing a kiss to Kira’s forehead before pulling away.

 

“She’s beautiful,” Delphine remarks. “You sent me pictures but… she’s so perfect.”

 

They continue walking along down the street, their destination unknown to the blonde. It’s still quite early in the afternoon and they have plenty of time to kill before they have to be back at Siobhan’s to prepare for Alison’s dinner. Sarah had messaged her, wanting to spend the day together and the French woman was eager to reconnect after so long apart.

 

“How… how are you?” Sarah speaks, asking the inevitable question.

 

She’s used to it by now. She doesn’t dread the question so much anymore. Perhaps all these years of therapy have actually been working. There are days where she certainly _feels_ much stronger, like she’s become a more complete person. Then there are days where she looks at herself in the mirror and all of the cracks are plainly visible, and she finds herself not knowing whether it’s the glass that’s worn or if it’s herself. On those days, she wonders who she can really trust. 

 

But as always, she takes another breath and moves forward.

 

“Good. Busy,” she answers with a curt nod. “The project’s been going well. We’ve started a new trial, so everything’s been very hectic. It looks promising, though.”

 

“Yeah? That’s good.”

 

She buries her hands into the pockets of her coat and worries her bottom lip beneath her teeth. Should she tell Sarah? How will she react? Will she think she’s insane like her mother seems to think? Perhaps divulging is a bad idea, but the words come up before she can stop them.

 

“There’s a girl— Charlotte. She’s so young, but she’s already showing symptoms,” she begins. “We’ve developed a stem cell treatment that seems to be effective, or at least more effective than anything we’ve tried before. Her body seems to be responding well.”

 

“Maybe you’ll actually find a cure,” Sarah mumbles, pushing Kira along in her stroller. “How’s that for some bullshit justice?”

 

She knows exactly what Sarah’s thinking. She’d had the very same thought herself, at first. It had taken her a while to let go of it.

 

_If only we’d gotten here sooner._

 

_If only we’d had more time._

 

She reaches into her purse, searching for her phone so she can find a picture of the child in question. She scrolls through her photos until she finds one— a closeup of the girl’s beaming face. She remembers that day well. Charlotte had come in for another round of treatment. She’d been hesitant and wistful about the entire process, but Delphine had allowed her to play with her phone as compensation. By the very end, she’d had about a dozen terrible pictures of a child’s fascination at work.

 

“This is her.”

 

She holds the phone up for Sarah to see. The brunette glances over and she nearly bursts when she recognizes the face staring back at her.

 

“Holy shite. She looks just like—”

 

“I know.”

 

She turns her phone off and tucks it away again, anxiously awaiting Sarah’s response. 

 

“That’s…,” the Brit pauses, wading through her thoughts. “Wow.”

 

Delphine smiles.

 

“I can save her,” she tells Sarah. 

 

She can already see the frown begin to form on Sarah’s face. Before the shorter woman has a chance to speak, words come pouring at of her own mouth once again and she’s unable to stifle them.

 

“I know I can’t change what’s happened. I’m not trying to,” she says, already sensing Sarah’s response. “It’s not anything like that, but… but I can help this girl. So I have to. I can help _this_ girl. It’s… it’s the least I can do.”

 

Sarah stops herself, slowly digesting Delphine’s words.

 

“Yeah,” she finally agrees. “Yeah. She’d want that.”

 

They continue on their way again and it doesn’t take her very long to figure out what the brunette has planned for their afternoon together. With such familiar scenery surrounding her, she knows _exactly_ where they’re headed and she smirks, wondering just how much Cosima had divulged to her best friend.

 

“I’ve been taking Kira here. It’s good for her, yeah? Educational.”

 

It’s been so long since she’s stepped through the large, glass doors adorned with painted sea turtles and orcas, welcoming wonder. The second she does, memories come flooding back in, as clear as the water held inside the massive tanks. She closes her eyes and breathes it in for a moment, imagines herself on beach somewhere far away, Cosima at her side. She can hear the rolling waves, smell the salt in the air and feel the coolness of the ocean on her skin.

 

Somehow, _it’s just enough._

 

Sarah removes Kira from her stroller and holds her in her arms so that the infant can see the wondrous sights surrounding her. They take their time moving through the aquarium and it’s easy for the blonde to note all of the changes in her absence. It seems much cleaner than before, with a few new exhibits on display. Gone is the nautilus, replaced by a smack of benign jellyfish that has the infant cooing and reaching out. Children rush and screech all around them as mothers and fathers keep a close watch. They walk through a glass tunnel where brightly coloured fish encircle, swimming patiently above them like distant stars in the night sky. 

 

When they enter into the next area, Kira squeals loudly and flails her tiny arms. Sarah giggles in a way the blonde has never heard before and she appeases her child, carrying her over to the tank where a tiny octopus frolics.

“Oh, look! It’s your favourite, monkey!” Sarah exclaims, pointing at the creature.

 

Kira brings her chubby hands to the glass, tapping against it and babbling away in baby speak. Delphine comes to a stop, overcome by the tide of emotion the second she realizes where she’s standing. It’s a different octopus than the one before, the one that Cosima had danced with all those years ago, but all the grace is still intact. Looking over the the information panel posted next to the tank, her heart swells inside of her chest.

 

**“Meet Cosmos!”** the panel reads. “ **Octopus vulgaris.”**

 

She steps in closer, her entire body trembling as she presses herself against the glass. The creature glides over towards her in one, swift motion. It continues to swim in small circles before her as she raises her hand and brings her palm flat against the glass. As if incited by the gesture, the octopus begins to twirl its tentacles.

 

“Look, monkey!” Sarah tells her daughter. “He’s dancing with your auntie!”

 

The blonde presses her forehead to the glass, eyes slipping closed and lungs quaking as she inhales another deep breath, a smile splitting her face.

 

_“Je promets.”_

 

 

 


End file.
